


The Thurber Hypothesis

by Capella (Caprina)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprina/pseuds/Capella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A funny thing happened on the way to Imladris...</p>
<p>Written sometime in the early 2000's under the name of Capella.  I'm re-posting it now because it's background for a new story in a different fandom which I'm writing at the moment.</p>
<p>Although this can be read as a standalone in the 'ridiculous crossover' category, it also fits into the 'Sea Longing' series in between 'Gifts' and 'Confidences'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Elfscribe for being the best beta ever.

Xander was half way past the graveyard when he heard the noise. Years of Slayerette practice hadn’t gone to waste – he knew what to expect when he turned. Sure enough, there was the game face. He’d been a youngish guy when he died, medium height and stocky. Black suit covered in dirt, clearly just up from the grave. And hungry as hell.

He started to run, digging in his pocket. Crap. Well done, Xander. Take the short cut, why don’t you? Hours after sundown, and in your work pants, not even a cross to help you out 

The vamp was gaining on him as he dodged round the corner into a poorly lit street, tree-lined. No sign of any stake material to hand. And no chance to outrun this one, probably a football player with that build. Where’s the Slayer when you need her? 

Less than thirty yards down the street the inevitable happened. A hand on his shoulder, then an arm around his neck, pulling him up short and in against the stinking body. Xander took a deep breath and slammed his elbow back, trying to get enough distance to turn. They may recover quickly, but a kick in the balls still hurts them, might give him time to get away. 

No such luck. Seconds later the vamp had him backed up against a broad tree trunk, leering in at him with foul yellow eyes. How many aborted apocalypses had he seen, only to end up going like this? It seemed a terrible shame, somehow. And the others, they’d all be sitting around at Giles’s place right now, special scoobies meeting in session. How ironic. 

Buffy is going to make this her fault, for sure.

He brought his knee up sharply, made the connection, saw the genuine pain in the vamp’s eyes. Not such a killer move without the added Slayer strength - he was still pinned against the tree, only now the vamp was mad as hell, as well as hungry. One grey, filthy hand came up and grabbed him by the jaw, slammed his head back into the wood. He saw stars, and something else: a glimpse of blonde hair, moving very fast. 

Jeez, where did she come from, out of the tree? 

Xander slumped to the ground, head reeling, as the vamp was pulled off him. Then opened his eyes and came back to earth in a rush. That most definitely was not Buffy, blond or not. Then who the hell was it? Some tall guy in a fancy dress outfit, like an extra from Robin Hood, but nothing fake about his fighting, that much was clear. The vamp was down, not finished, in spite of the vicious looking knife being yanked out of somewhere near his heart. 

“Won’t do it,” Xander croaked. “Need to cut his head off.”

The tall guy turned and glanced at him. Wow. You wouldn’t have to be into men to spot this one. Plus, he didn’t mess about – just waited till the vamp got to his knees, then dusted him with a flash of steel across the neck. A very fast flash of steel. 

“Who . . .” Xander stopped, finding the guy suddenly crouching next to him, hand at his throat, holding him still without quite hurting him. There was something very strange about him. They stared at each other. The guy seemed wild, frightened. And the more Xander looked, the more obvious it was that the guy wasn’t actually human. The voice confirmed it, making the hairs on the back of Xander’s neck stand up.

“What is this place?”

********************

When the conversation turned to Riley, Giles fled into the kitchen area to make another pot of tea. Fond as he was of Buffy and Willow, and even, these days, of Anya, there were definite limits to his indulgence. He could not deny that mention of the boy’s name still stung. Oh, they had all been at pains to make up for his complete humiliation, had apologised a hundred times between them for simply forgetting to tell him about the college-boy commando. If anything, they had tried far too hard to make him feel better. The damage was firmly done, and Giles knew that it would be a while before he could be in their company for any length of time without feeling old and, quite frankly, useless.

Still, here they were, supposedly engaged in research, although in fact the sum total of their findings was too close to zero to bear examination. Whatever the new threat in town might be, it was not announcing itself clearly. 

He crouched at the fridge, reaching for the milk, as he heard the door open and Xander, boisterous as ever, calling, “Good evening, Ladies! Daddy’s home!” Giles winced at the boy’s assumed accent. “And look who’s coming to dinner.” 

The room seemed to become very quiet. Giles felt goosebumps starting on his skin even before he placed the carton on the tray, picked the whole thing up, and turned to look over the counter top into the lounge. 

The man standing behind Xander, gazing around the room as if taking in every detail, was extraordinary. One could ignore his clothes and his hairstyle; Giles had seen far stranger sights on the Californian streets. His height and bearing, however, would merit a second glance in any company. He had a lean, muscled look, almost a dancer’s build; and a sense of wary readiness, as if some internal spring was coiled for a hair-trigger release. 

Giles stared silently, worried for a moment by some faint, nagging hint of familiarity. He couldn’t begin to place it, as he was sure he had never seen the man before. It would be impossible to forget a face like that.

‘Man?’ he thought suddenly, realising that he was looking at no such thing.

Buffy, with her Slayer sense, must have reached the same conclusion.

“Ooo – a _pretty_ demon! That’s a new twist,” she said. 

The visitor turned his head towards her and spoke, the sound sending shivers down Giles’s spine. 

“I am no demon, Child. You would be wise to choose your words with more care,” he said. 

There was no anger in his tone, but Giles, for one, would be inclined to agree. 

Xander seemed to be the only one of them entirely at ease with the situation. He finished off a burger with his customary enthusiasm for such junk, and threw the crumpled wrapper across the room into the bin before he spoke. 

“He’s on our side, whatever. Gets my vote – I’d have been partying solo in the morgue if he hadn’t shown up to save me. He’s an edhel, right?” He looked at the other for confirmation. “Name’s Legolas.” 

Giles heard Willow’s squeak, as he let the tray crash down on to the counter and blurted out the exclamation, “Good God!”

Less than half a second later he was staring far too closely at a long, gleaming knife. How it had come to be so near, he was not entirely sure. 

“Buffy, no!” he cried, as the Slayer vaulted the sofa to come to his defence. Raising his hands in what he hoped was a universal gesture of surrender, he focussed on the edhel – elf – in front of him. Strangely, it did not occur to him to doubt that Xander had spoken the truth. 

“ _Amin hiraetha_ ,” he said, rather breathlessly. “ _Avo ‘osto_.”

The knife was lowered slowly. 

Giles brought his hands down carefully to his sides before carrying on.

“ _Mae govannen, mellon_. _Creoso a’baramin_.” 

He was quite unprepared for the effect the elf’s smile had on him.

He was aware of Buffy, standing just behind and to one side of Legolas, ready to step in if necessary. He heard Willow’s “You speak Sindarin? Cool!”, and the confused queries from Xander and Anya in response. But all those things seemed to exist somewhere on the periphery of his consciousness, in the tiny fraction of his brain which was not riveted to the sheer radiant beauty of the sight in front of him. 

Giles could feel the blush rising and his heart speeding up, as the blue eyes continued to gaze into his. He was quite convinced that the elf knew exactly what was happening, and cursed himself as a fool for his lack of self control. He longed to take off his glasses and polish them, his habitual gesture of self defence, but could not even bring himself to move. 

“You are most courteous,” said Legolas, at last, in strongly accented English that sounded infeasibly musical. “Please forgive my unnecessary aggression. Finding myself here in your world has unsettled me.”

The spell seemed to be broken by the words, and Giles felt himself smile at the gentle understatement and the serenity of the stranger's voice and expression. This, then, was the legendary composure of the elves. Even by Sunnydale’s rather exceptional standards, this promised to be a most interesting evening.

  

_Amin hiraetha:_ I’m sorry

_Avo ‘osto:_ Do not fear

_Mae govannen, mellon:_ Well met, friend

_Creoso a’baramin:_ Welcome to my home


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s all in here.” Giles set the heavy book down with something of a flourish. “I had the feeling that I remembered the reference. Inspiration finally struck me in the early hours and I retrieved it from the cellar this morning.” 

It had been the only good to come of the lengthy, restless night. Legolas may have slept wonderfully well – no doubt he had needed to do so after three nights of fearful hiding in a strange world – but his mere presence in the house had been enough to ensure that Giles had found no peace.

“And it is?” Buffy enquired brightly, head tilted to one side. “ ‘The Geek’s Guide to Dungeons and Dragons?’”

“Buffy!” Willow seemed unnecessarily upset by her friend’s comment. “Don’t mock Legolas.”

Buffy shot her an apologetic glance then turned to smile dazzlingly at Legolas. The elf, sitting back motionless in his chair, barely raised an eyebrow in response. It was hard to tell how much of the conversation he had fully understood, since he drank it all in with little apparent reaction. 

“Sorry,” Buffy said, “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“As I know nothing of the book to which you refer, it is hardly likely that your remark would offend me,” replied Legolas placidly. “Perhaps you could explain it to me?”

Buffy had the grace to blush slightly. “Maybe later. I think Giles wants to play teacher now.”

Giles cleared his throat. “Indeed. I can see no point in waiting for Xander, who is doubtless going to sleep the morning away in his own dank dungeon. This,” he laid a hand on the dusty volume, “is the collected digest of the proceedings of the British Paranormal Society annual conference for the nineteen seventies.” 

“Now I’m really excited,” Buffy chipped in. Giles and Willow both turned to silence her with a look.

“In nineteen seventy-two, William Thurber presented his hypothesis to the conference. It was not well received, and for a while nothing more was heard of it. In recent years, however, due to advances in cosmology and quantum physics, the hypothesis has gained some credence amongst the more learned theorists in the field.”

“Giles, we speak English here, remember?” 

“So we do, or at least what passes for English in Southern California.” Giles glared at the Slayer.

“What does the theory say?” Willow asked impatiently, leaning forward with her elbows on the table and staring up, wide-eyed, at Giles. She was definitely on edge; he would have to question her discreetly later on.

“Let me read from Thurber’s own abstract.” Giles opened the book at the place marked by a Magic Shop flyer. “Here it is.”

“ ‘In a creation which comprises an infinity of multiple universes, it may be posited that every conceivable scenario is in fact reality in one such universe.’ Nothing unexpected there . . . he talks for a while of the multi-universe theory . . . ah, here: ‘given that’ no, wait, ‘the most potent of our myths, the most complete constructions of our fantasy, are more than simple products of the human imagination, expanded over generations to become part of the collective consciousness. They are in fact reflections of actuality as it is experienced in those universes least distant from our own, when considered in the framework of multi-dimensional space-time.’ There is more, but that gives the gist of it.”

Buffy frowned. “And again I say to you, in English, please?”

“Stories aren’t stories,” Willow spoke quickly to her friend. “They’re visions of reality in other worlds near ours.”

“But not all stories?”

”I sincerely hope not,” said Giles with a shudder, “Although without considering the true meaning of ‘infinite,’ it would be hard to say.”

“If I understand it correctly, this theory would explain why you, through these books you speak of, know so much of my world,” Legolas said, his gaze fixed somewhat disconcertingly on Giles. “But does it shed any light on the reason for my presence amongst you?”

“I’m afraid it does not. I can only assume that some magical accident brought you here, perhaps some fluctuation related to the Hellmouth.”

The elf nodded silently. 

“Er, Giles,” Willow was positively agitated now. “Does the theory state that the stories are written because the universe is close, or does the writing itself bring it closer?”

Giles narrowed his eyes at her. “The debate continues, although Thurber himself inclined to the former view. Why?”

“I have a horrible feeling it might be my fault that Legolas is here,” she said in a small voice.

Even Legolas could be seen to start at this announcement.

“Will, what are you talking about?” Buffy sounded incredulous. “Don’t tell me you . . .”

“Magicked, yes I know, I said I would be careful. I didn’t mean to do it.”

Giles sat down heavily and reached for the teapot. “I think I might need something stronger after I hear this,” he said wearily. “Do tell us, Willow.”

“Four nights ago – that’s when you arrived, isn’t it?” Willow waited until the elf signalled his confirmation. “I was on the net, looking at stuff about the films they’re making in New Zealand – you know, the Lord of the Rings trilogy. It looks really cool, and they’ve got all these great actors and effects . . . there’s loads of discussion about it. I went and read some of the best bits of the book afterwards, and then I was thinking of . . . about Legolas, ‘cos he’s always been my favourite.” 

Willow’s face was nearly as red as her hair, but the elf showed no response to her stuttered words.

“Buffy was out and said she’d be really late, so I thought I’d practise some spells until she got back. I was trying a summoning, nothing dangerous, just benign spirit stuff, but I guess I didn’t really focus. I felt this huge rush of energy, but nothing appeared, and I just assumed the spirit had got part way here and gone back again or something.”

“And instead,” Legolas said gravely, “you summoned me. Do you know what powers you play with, Child?”

Willow stared down at the table and mumbled , “I’m really sorry, Legolas.”

“At least we know there is nothing more sinister than utter foolishness behind this,” Giles said with a sigh. “Willow, we’ve talked about this before. You know perfectly well that there is no such thing as a safe summoning spell.”

They were spared further discussion by the arrival of Xander, with a large cardboard box in one hand and a carrier bag in the other.

“Good morning, Ladies, Gentlemen and Elves, I bring you . . . brain food, direct from Dunkin Donuts.” 

Giles stood and went through to the kitchen, listening as the others exclaimed over the contents of the box.

“Legolas should have first choice,” Willow stated. 

“What is this?” 

“Delicious goodness,” Xander told the elf. “Fat, sugar and starch – all the crucial food groups. I guarantee you’ll love it.”

“You do eat our food, don’t you?” asked Buffy. “Not just nectar and ambrosia and stuff?”

Giles grinned to himself as he filled the kettle. His own doubts on that score had been dispelled the night before, while watching Legolas demolish a huge portion of chicken fajitas rapidly, cleanly and with unconcealed delight.

He approached the table just in time to see the elf licking the last remnants of the donut from his long, slim fingers. It was a sight he could have done without under the circumstances. 

“Wondrously sweet,” Legolas pronounced, “And the brown confection . . .?”

“Chocolate!” the youngsters interjected in unison.

“The chocolate was quite delicious. Thank you, Xander.” The elf’s smile suddenly became melancholy. “I can think of a Halfling who would weep for joy to taste such a delicacy. Giles, now that we have established how I have come to be here, perhaps we could discuss the manner of my return?”

“Huh?” Xander noisily pulled a chair out from the table and parked himself on it.

“Parallel universe. Will goofing up her spells. I’ll explain it later,” Buffy told him.

“Magic brought you here, Legolas, and only magic can send you home again,” said Giles, leaning on the back of the remaining chair.

“You have some power; I can sense it.” The elf stared searchingly at him until Giles felt his body hairs stand on end. “Can you do this for me?”

“I am afraid I cannot. It would take more power, and far more skill, than I have at my disposal. A simple banishment I can manage, but to return you to the exact place, at the right moment –”

“Then will Legolas have to stay?” Willow sounded rather too eager.

“I doubt it.” He crossed the room to the bureau and opened the lower drawer. “I may not be much of a sorcerer, but I do maintain a pretty impressive network of contacts in occult circles. I think it may be time for me to do a little summoning of my own.”

“I, er, have a Taransthenian crystal, if you want to borrow it,” Willow said hesitantly.

Giles retrieved the old diary and gave her a long hard look. “Thank you, Willow, that will not be necessary, although perhaps you should bring it here for safekeeping anyway. On this occasion the telephone will suffice.” 

Miranda, the voice said, was out of town until the end of the week. Giles left an appropriately heartfelt message and returned to tell the others. “She will call back by Friday, I have no doubt. It’s worth waiting for Miranda; she is both powerful and reliable. Besides, she owes me a favour or two.”

“I suppose you introduced her to her husband,” Buffy said.

Giles laughed. “No, it’s rather more complicated than that. I don’t think Miranda would thank me for disclosing the whole story. Legolas, I should tell you that I’m not completely certain she will be able to help you; there are many factors to consider.”

“I have to believe that it will happen,” the elf said quietly. “In which case, it seems that I have a week to learn what I can of your world. I should start by studying your script, perhaps. I admit that I am keen to know what is written of Middle Earth in this book you speak of.”

“Ah, no need to bother with the reading.” Xander lifted his plastic bag up to the table. “I called in at the bookstore and got you a little something. See? The Lord of the Rings – Audio Edition. And a Walkman to play it on.”

Xander started unwrapping the cassettes and showed Legolas how to put one into the machine, don the headphones and switch it on. A look of wonderment crossed the elf’s face at the same moment that a horrible thought entered Giles’s mind.

“Wait!” 

They all stared at him, shocked. 

“Legolas, you mustn’t – you cannot listen to all of it.”

Comprehension clearly dawned on the elf as his eyes held Giles’s. “I must not know of my own future?” he said.

“It is a fundamental rule of contact between worlds,” Giles said quickly. “All kinds of cosmic forces will be thrown out of balance, and who knows what the consequences might be?”

The glorious smile took his breath away once more. “Then you shall listen first, and tell me at which point I must stop.” The elf removed the headphones and slid the apparatus across to Giles. “As I told you last night, in my world it is thirteen years since the defeat of Sauron.”

“No, wait, it’s OK,” Willow was reading the back of the box. Tape seven is the appendices; he’ll be alright as long as he doesn’t listen to those. And it won’t ruin the story either. Although I just love the bit at the end where he and -”

“Willow!”

“Oops! Sorry.” She pulled the last cassette from the box and handed it to Giles. “There – all safe. And I promise not to talk about it again.”

Giles stowed the tape in a drawer and picked up a pile of papers from the bookcase on his return journey. “And now perhaps the rest of us should return to our rather more usual business,” he said. “In spite of all this excitement, there is still the matter of the mysterious sightings in the woods. Buffy, are you sure there’s nothing more you can add to these?”

The Slayer studied the drawings laid out side by side across the table, as Giles moved round to look over her shoulder, the sketching pencil in his hand. 

“I know you think I should have stuck around to get their names and ID numbers,” she said irritably, “but there were too many of them and I only had a stake. These guys are gonna need some serious weaponry. And there’s something not quite right about the face.”

“I’ve got to agree with that!” Xander grimaced at the pictures.

“No, I mean the drawing isn’t right.”

Legolas rose smoothly to his feet and came to stand at Giles’s elbow, terribly close. Giles thought he might be imagining the sensation of heat from the elf’s body, but the shiver that ran across his skin was real enough.

“May I?” 

Giles moved out of the way as the pale hand took the pencil from him and Legolas bent to the table. With a few deft strokes the elf widened the middle of the figure’s face and altered the slant of its eyes as the humans watched in silence.

“That’s it! That’s what I saw,” Buffy exclaimed.

“Then the mystery is solved,” said Legolas, “although the problem remains. At least it is one with which I am well qualified to help you.”


	3. Chapter 3

“But Giles, they are so young.” Legolas tucked a damp golden tendril behind his ear as he spoke. “Buffy is different; I quite understand that. I had sensed it before you told me of her calling. But the other two? They are mere children, yet you send them out as warriors against such foes as these.”

Giles gazed at the elf for a moment before replying. Legolas sat straight-backed on the couch, loose hair drying across his shoulders. His blue-eyed stare was almost uncomfortably penetrating. 

“Don’t think I’m not aware of it,” Giles said. “I didn’t choose Buffy’s friends for her, she did that herself. They have been through a good deal together and survived worse than this. I sometimes wonder whether the love and loyalty between them lends a strength to Buffy greater than any physical weapon. I wouldn’t wish to separate them.”

“Nevertheless, surely you agree that Buffy and I should seek out the Uruk-Hai tonight, while Willow and Xander stay here with you.”

“Willow, at least. We have some serious talking to do about her dabblings in magic.”

“Aye. She has great power, although she does not know how to control it. She needs guidance, for such a gift will not long be restrained.” 

“I rather fear you’re right.” Giles sighed and leaned forward in his chair. “More tea?”

Legolas blessed him with a sudden grin. “I think not. I believe I could become rather too fond of it. I will take water if I may, and please, let me fetch it for myself. Shall I bring some for you?”

“If you would.” 

It had not taken long for the elf to observe the informality of the youngsters in Giles's home and modify his own behaviour to suit.

Giles’s gaze followed the lean, graceful figure crossing the room. In spite of the fact that his borrowed white T-shirt was a little on the baggy side and the navy tracksuit trousers were distinctly short, Legolas was well worth looking at. Dressed in Giles's cast-offs he may no longer scream ‘oddity’ to all and sundry, but he would still stop the traffic. 

As he handed Giles the glass, Legolas looked at him with serious eyes. “And what of you?” he asked. “You find yourself in a most difficult position, I think; responsible for your young friends’ actions, and yet not so.”

“Me?” Giles made a vaguely dismissive gesture. After a moment of silence he relented, suddenly aware that it had been far too long since he had been able to talk to another adult about his daily fear and uncertainty. “Once again you are right, of course. There was a time when my role in relation to Buffy was clearly defined. Nowadays she always listens to my advice, but then basically goes her own way.”

“And you worry for her, constantly.”

“Yes. She may be phenomenally strong and resilient, but she is not invincible. She has already lived far longer than any other Slayer on record.”

“It is a terrible destiny.” Legolas looked thoughtful. “Yet she seems to bear it well. There must be great depths of sorrow behind the light-hearted front she presents to the world.”

“Indeed there are.” Giles agreed. “The jokes and silliness may be in her nature, but they are also a major part of her self protection.”

“Then she is lucky to have loyal allies who understand her need for levity. They must be a great comfort to her, and a source of strength, as you say.” The elf grinned again as he continued. “I myself have been similarly blessed, although of course I count amongst my friends several warriors of a rather more conventional type.”

Giles sat forward. "Will you tell me something about them?" he asked eagerly.

Legolas laughed. “With pleasure,” he said. “Aragorn and Gimli you know of, from your stories.” 

Giles nodded. 

“Aragorn is not one to approach battle in merry mood. He fights with fire and passion, but it is ever a grim choice for him and he takes no joy in it. Gimli, on the other hand, for all he is a kind-hearted and true companion, has the soul of a true warrior. Once conflict is upon him, he takes a fierce delight in his work, and is consequently a terrifying foe.”

“I can well believe it,” Giles commented. “What about you? Are you a joyous warrior, or a reluctant one?”

“I could never enjoy the business of ending a life, even a mean and wicked one such as that of an orc,” the elf said pensively. “Yet I admit that the fight itself is almost intoxicating. There is much pleasure to be found in the exercise of physical power and skill. It is often thus for those of my kind. Meluinen is the same, for all his merriment.”

“Meluinen?” Giles pronounced the unfamiliar name with care.

“You do not know of Meluinen? No, of course not; he was not with me in the Great War, although he fought bravely at my father’s side in the battle for the Green Wood.”

“He’s an elf?”

“Yes, and my dearest companion amongst my people. We have been friends since we were very young, and he dwells with me in Ithilien now. He is both an excellent swordsman and a talented archer, and he has a ready wit and a great love of life. In that respect, he rather resembles Imrahil.”

“Imrahil?” Giles repeated stupidly, his head beginning to spin. “Prince of . . . Belfalas?”

“Why so surprised that I mention his name?” Legolas gave an odd, secretive smile. “Things have changed since Sauron’s fall, and it is not now so uncommon for friendship to develop between man and elf.”

“No, I . . . it’s just that it’s terribly strange, hearing you talk of all these people whom I think of as mere characters in a book. It’s taking some getting used to.”

“It can be no stranger than this experience is for me.” 

Giles caught the sudden note of anguish. “Don’t worry,” he said with rather more confidence than he felt, “Miranda will get you back there.” 

They stared at each other for a moment. “You are a good man,” Legolas said, “And I am grateful beyond words for all you are doing for me. May I ask you something?” He waited for the man’s nod. “Is Giles truly the name your mother gave you? I think that it is not.”

Giles looked hard at the ageless face and tried to detect a motive behind the unexpected question. Legolas was giving nothing away.

“No, you’re right, again. My first name is Rupert.”

“Rupert.” From the elf’s tongue it sounded like a caress. “A pleasing cadence. What does it signify?”

He laughed, embarrassed. “It’s hardly appropriate; it means ‘famous’.”

“Famous.” Legolas’s smile broadened. “Perhaps one day…”

“I very much doubt it,” Giles replied dryly.

“Would it displease you if I were to call you by your given name? Or would it be discourteous according to your custom?”

“No, on both counts. I should be delighted.” 

Far too delighted, Giles reflected, as he excused himself and headed upstairs to the bathroom.

The shower stall was cleaned and totally dry, the mat and cloth hung neatly over the rail. Giles glanced around the tiny room and noted that Legolas was not only a diverting conversationalist, but a considerate houseguest too. Easy company, in fact, were it not for the overwhelming physical response to the elf that Giles seemed unable to suppress. 

Time to give himself a serious talking-to about that, perhaps.

He stared into the mirror, noting the lines and wrinkles, the receding hair, the grey touches. Where had the years gone? It was such a long time since he had felt the stirrings of desire for another male, long enough to convince him that phase of his life was behind him. And now . . . mind you, one would have to be made of stone, not to be moved by Legolas. 

It was not just a question of ethereal beauty, either. That he might have been prepared for. But there was a physicality to the elf, a sensuality in the way he enjoyed his new experiences even in the midst of his anxiety and disorientation. Giles thought of the enthusiasm with which Legolas tackled his food, how his gaze and touch lingered on unfamiliar objects and materials, his delighted comments about the miraculously hot power shower – now there was a thought it would not be wise to dwell on.

Professor Tolkien might not have realised it, good Catholic that he was, but it would seem that this elf, at least, was a creature of the flesh as much as the spirit.

Then there was the flicker of feeling that had crossed Legolas’s face when he’d spoken of Imrahil – Giles was convinced he hadn’t imagined that. “Oh yes, of course,” he hissed at his reflection. “And just because he has something going with a part-elven ‘fair lord and great captain of men’, it’s entirely appropriate for you to lose your head over him like some half-witted sixteen year old. For heaven’s sake, Giles, grow up.”

Sighing, he turned from the glass, aware that realism was not going to win the day here. Some spiritual focus might help, however. The best thing he could possibly do was run through some Tai Chi exercises in his room before going back downstairs. Legolas wouldn’t mind; he’d be happy enough listening to his tapes.

He was barely into the second sequence of slow, measured movements, his mind just beginning to calm, when a loud crash and a shout broke the peace and sent him running for the stairs. Even before he reached the first step there were more noises, thuds and bangs, and another angry yell. 

Unfortunately, it was a voice he knew.

“Oh, Lord!” he groaned in exasperation. “Spike! What on earth are you doing here?”

“Giles!” The vampire had no need of air to survive, but Legolas’s forearm pressed across his windpipe was clearly making speech difficult. “Will you explain to Pretty Boy here that in the Land of the sodding Free we don’t strangle our guests?” 

Spike was obviously at a major disadvantage. Legolas had a hold of both the vampire’s wrists, one behind his back in a firm lock, the other where he had apparently raised his hand in an attempt to dislodge the arm across his neck. The well developed muscles of the vampire’s chest stood out in clear relief beneath his tight T shirt. He was clearly trying hard to escape, but the elf seemed to hold him still with little effort. Giles couldn’t stop himself from grinning at the sight.

Legolas was unamused. “If you would pass me my knife, Rupert, I shall finish it,” he said evenly.

“Much as I’d love to watch that, Legolas, I’m afraid you need to let him go.”

“Why?” Puzzled, the elf still heeded Giles and relaxed his grip. “Is he not evil? He fairly reeks of death.”

“Well . . .”

“Too bloody right I’m evil,” interjected Spike as he twisted himself free and turned to face Legolas. “Rotten to the core. And who’s asking?” He stared at the elf for a moment, eyes narrowed. “Legolas, eh? Don’t tell me you’re a genuine elf? The real bleedin’ McCoy?”

“You’ve read ‘Lord of the Rings?’” For some reason Giles found the thought hilarious.

“Me? Not bloody likely. But a bloke doesn’t live for a hundred and fifty years without picking up a bit of general knowledge here and there.” He spoke so hastily that Giles was certain he was lying. Well! Spike, a Tolkien fan. Who’d have thought it?

Legolas’s grim expression had not softened as he stared back at Spike. “And you are a bloodsucker, are you not?” he asked coldly.

“Certainly am.” The vampire squared up, shoulders back, hands in the pockets of his ridiculously long leather coat. He stood a good head shorter than the elf and his bleached crop seemed brasher than ever next to Legolas’s pale gold. His strikingly angular face contorted itself into a coarse leer as he continued, “Care for a little demonstration? They might have fixed me up so I can’t bite humans, but there’s nothing in the rule book that says I can’t play with elves.”

“Spike, for God’s sake!” Giles exclaimed.

Spike blatantly looked Legolas up and down before grinning at the silent elf and licking his lips slowly. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said in a low voice. “I wouldn’t drain you all at once - that would be a terrible waste.”

“I wish to have no contact with you,” said Legolas icily. His gaze seemed locked to Spike’s, and there was an inexplicably disturbing expression on his face.

“Now, I’m not so sure of that,” the vampire said softly, taking a step closer. “Are you going to lie to me and tell me you’re not just the tiniest bit intrigued by the thought of me getting my teeth into that pure white skin of yours?”

Spike moved in as he spoke, until he stood less than an arm’s length from Legolas. To Giles’s astonishment the elf did not react, but continued to stare as if mesmerised. Holding the eye contact, the vampire smiled wickedly and slowly raised a hand towards the pale neck. 

“Just the tiniest bit . . . aroused?” he said, as the backs of his fingers brushed the elf’s flesh.

There was a blur of movement as Legolas sprang to the corner of the room and whirled around with his knives in his hands. “Touch me again,” he hissed, “and I shall slice your head from your shoulders.”

“You won’t catch me unawares a second time, Sweetheart. How about you drop the knives and we go hand to hand? You know how much you’d love it. I promise I’ll be rough.”

Giles had had enough. Reaching behind the sofa he grasped the nearest weapon to hand, a fine double-headed axe based on the ancient Minoan design. “Spike, if Legolas doesn’t kill you, I’ve a good mind to do it myself,” he said, waving the axe to catch the vampire’s attention. “Just remember that you are in my house, and unless you want me to change the metaphysical locks, you will abide by my rules. That means no biting, no fighting, and quite definitely no more of your vile innuendo!”

“Oooh, what’s the matter? Is Daddy jealous?” 

“That’s it! Out. Now!” Giles gestured to the door. 

For a second it looked as if Spike might argue. His eyes flitted from Giles to Legolas, both armed and angry, and he shrugged. “Okay, okay, no need to get your tights in a tangle. I only came to see if you were interested in a bit of information on our army boys, but it looks like I’ll have to take it elsewhere.”

“Whatever you have to tell me, it can wait. Just now, I would very much like you to leave.”

The vampire shrugged again before heading to the door, pausing to throw his blanket over his head before venturing out into the afternoon sun. 

Giles watched him go and drew the bolt before turning back to Legolas. The elf still held his knives, although his hands had dropped to his sides. The blue eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Giles.

“I’m sorry,” Giles offered. “I should have warned you about Spike. That could have been nasty. Nastier.”

“He would not have hurt me,” the elf said, calm once more. “And there is no need to apologise; this is your home. It is I who presumed by attacking him unprovoked, thinking him an intruder.”

“If he crashed in here as he usually does, it’d be an easy mistake to make. Anyway, I am sorry. And don’t be so sure he wouldn’t hurt you. He’s a ruthless killer, and strong with it.”

“If his only intent was to kill me, he could present quite a challenge, it is true.”

“He has . . .” The words dried in Giles’s throat and he felt his cheeks start to burn as he realised the meaning of the elf’s comment. Legolas did not seem at all concerned. And why should he? He had probably spent several centuries fending off unwanted advances, after all.

“Is it because there is still some good in him that you let him live?” Legolas asked, seemingly oblivious to Giles’s discomfort. “On the battlefield I have killed hundreds of whom that is true, and felt little remorse. It is sometimes a necessity.”

Giles shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t really know how we’ve restrained ourselves from staking Spike for this long. He certainly does his best to provoke, as you’ve seen. However, killing him now, when he can’t fight back, would be . . . morally dubious, I suppose.”

“And it may be that he yet has a part to play,” said Legolas thoughtfully, “like Gollum.”

Giles felt his skin prickle. “Do you often see into the future?” he asked suddenly.

The elf looked at him in surprise. “No, I was merely wondering . . .”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Giles knew what he had felt, but sensing the elf’s disbelief, decided not to pursue it further. Better to head for safe ground, and draw an uncomplicated smile from his companion. He walked through to the kitchen, opened the fridge and inspected the healthy variety of foods inside. 

“Now,” he looked over his shoulder at Legolas. “What shall we have for dinner?”


	4. Chapter 4

Xander squirmed uncomfortably as he reached for another stick of gum. His left buttock was jammed up hard against a sharp twig, but if he moved any further to the right the branch looked likely to snap. Sitting half way up a tree with a pocket full of rocks was not his idea of a fun night out. Much as he liked and respected Legolas, there was way too much elfiness in this plan for his liking. And at first there’d been no part whatsoever in it for him. He’d had to argue, bringing out the old ‘help with burning the bodies’ chestnut as a last resort. Legolas had still seemed unconvinced.

Right now the elf was nowhere in sight, having shinned up the second sycamore to the left like a cat of some sort. All very well for him; he had the physique for it and probably hundreds of years of practice. Plus some sort of tree-affinity built in at birth, along with all his other talents. Great – another superhero in town. Even Willow seemed to have weird magical abilities these days, as if Buffy’s powers weren’t already enough to make her friends feel inferior. 

Xander kicked himself mentally for being so disloyal. At least they were all on the same side.

He heard Buffy crashing through the leaves before he saw her in the poor evening light, running flat out, not looking back. She dashed through the clearing and swung round behind the big oak, emerging with the axe in her hand. There was no upwards glance to check that the reinforcements were in position, no quip, nothing. Just the waiting stance, weapon clutched in two hands, total focus on the gap in the trees where all the noise was coming from.

His hands were shaking as he delved in his pocket for the three biggest stones, took one in the right ready to throw, transferred the others to the left as back-up. There was no way he could fire a crossbow from up here, and his knife would only be useful if he had to get down from the tree and wade into the fight. He’d totally intended to do so at the first opportunity, whatever Legolas might say. However, one look at the creatures appearing over the top of the ridge was enough to change his mind. Perhaps a tree wasn’t such a bad place to be, after all. 

They were big, and there were lots of them, more than twenty. Damned ugly, too, as bad as any demon he’d seen in the last few years. And the smell seemed to rush down the slope ahead of them. Perhaps they looked as if they’d slept in a cesspit for a reason. No wonder the elves couldn’t stand them.

The first uruk into the clearing was a tall specimen, broad across the shoulders, hefting a long curved axe and grimacing horribly. The sight of Buffy standing defiant seemed to bring him up short – he couldn’t have expected it of the helpless girl who’d blundered into his camp unawares a few minutes earlier. It was only a momentary halt; as the rest of his clan started to pour into the clearing, the big brute snarled something incomprehensible – although Xander would bet it translated roughly as ‘She’s mine!’ - and advanced, growling. Five feet from Buffy he stopped abruptly, then fell forward with an arrow between his eyes while the Slayer leapt nimbly out of the way.

As the rest of the uruks looked around them in confusion, Buffy found her voice. “Next?” she cried brightly, swinging the double-headed axe. 

Three more were down before any managed to step forward to take up her challenge. Jeez, but that elf was fast.

“Leave some for me,” Buffy shouted, and brought the axe round hard at her attacker.

The next few minutes were mayhem. It all went far too fast for Xander to follow the action properly, or to recall the exact sequence of events later. At some point Legolas dropped lightly out of his tree and started fighting with the knives, across the clearing from Buffy. Luckily the uruks didn’t seem to have bows of any kind and although most of them had long-handled blades they were just too clumsy to get them within range. Xander watched in awe as Buffy neatly side-stepped and spun away from one lumbering orc, sending the beast stumbling under his own momentum straight onto Legolas’s waiting knife, while the Slayer brought her axe down on a second opponent with a sickening crack. The two blond warriors smiled briefly at each other before turning back to the fray without a word.

It struck Xander that Buffy seemed to have met her match, in terms of agility, speed and strength. If it hadn’t been for the horror all around them he would have said the sight of them fighting together was beautiful. It was certainly absorbing enough for him to forget his own danger – he hadn’t realised he’d been spotted until he heard an uruk growling up at him from just below his right foot. A rock in the middle of the forehead slowed the creature down, but wasn’t enough to finish it. The long blade between the shoulders did that.

“Thanks, Legolas.” Xander clambered unsteadily down from his perch and looked around at the piles of bodies, wrinkling his nose. “That was some fight. Think there are any more of them?”

“I hope not,” said Legolas, bending to retrieve his knife from the corpse at Xander’s feet. “There can be no telling how many of them were called through to this world, but their instincts would have kept them together in a herd, rather than splitting them up.” The elf looked down at the lifeless body with a bleak expression. “Did you see any escape?” he asked a moment later.

Xander thought back as well as he could. “No, but then there was quite a lot going on. One or two could have got away without me noticing.”

“Better start getting them together for burning,” Buffy sighed. “I guess every job has its downside, but this one kinda takes the prize.”

“Right.” Xander steeled himself to grasp the nearest dead uruk by the ankles. He dragged it to the middle of the clearing with difficulty. “Can we take on a team of lightweights next time, please?”

They worked in grim silence for a while until the distant sound of a helicopter drew Buffy’s attention. She straightened and turned towards the sound.

“It’s coming this way.”

“The Initiative?” Xander said.

“I wondered when they were going to turn up. We’ll have to leave this to them.” 

It was one of those strange moments when the same thought occurs to two people at the same time. Xander spun round to face Legolas as Buffy said the words. “Legolas, you’ve got to get away from here!”

The elf rose from his crouch, a bundle of arrows in his hand, and looked from one to the other. “What is the problem?” 

“It would take too long to explain,” Xander said quickly. “But you can’t be here when these guys arrive.”

“No, you can’t. You have to run,” Buffy continued, “Run to Giles’s house and tell him . . . tell him to hide you from the Initiative. It’s really urgent.”

“But what about you? If there is danger, I should stay with you.”

“No danger for us,” Xander countered, hoping it was the truth, “They’re not interested in humans. Now please, stop talking and just go.”

The elf glanced from Xander to Buffy once more, then nodded and took off. 

“And I thought I was a fast runner,” Buffy commented, as Legolas vanished silently into the forest.

“Now might be a good time to prove it.” Xander was suddenly quite certain that he didn’t want to be around when the army boys showed up. The heap of dead orcs would take some explaining.

“Yeah, you’re right. We’ll go back round by the parking lot, so if they see us we can pretend we’re a couple or something.”

“Be still my heart!”

Buffy shot him a Look, obvious even in the near-dark. “C’mon,” she hissed. “The foot patrol are nearly here.” She grabbed his arm and they set off through the trees. 

Xander hadn’t heard anything approaching except the helicopter. That was probably something to do with the fact that he was Xander Harris, pizza delivery boy, while she was Buffy Summers, Slayer, Chosen One, Saviour of the World. Made for each other, really. Too bad she’d never been able to see it.

Once they got to the main road they slowed down and began the long walk back to Sunnydale. 

Xander struggled to control his breathing. “The sooner I get a proper job and a car, the better,” he gasped.

“Xander, are you alright?” Buffy’s voice was full of friendly concern. There was no hint of breathlessness.

“Apart from the imminent cardiac arrest? Just peachy.”

“No, I meant alright. I mean, you and Anya, are you okay?”

“Because she’s not around, you mean?” What a great time to choose for a heart to heart.

“Yeah.”

“No, I mean yes, we’re fine. She’s lying low for a bit though.” 

Buffy waited for the explanation. 

Xander shrugged. “It’s because of Legolas.”

“Legolas? She’s avoiding him? Is she crazy? Most girls would -”

“I know, well, at least I can work it out. Spare me the detail.” He ran a hand through his hair and attempted to explain. “She says all that virtue and purity makes her nervous. She thinks he knows she’s a demon.”

“Does she think he’d do something? I’m sure he’d be okay about it.”

“I know, I told her that, but she wasn’t being very rational. You know how she picks up on things, magic and stuff, she says it sets her teeth on edge.”

“Weird.” Buffy shook her head. “But then having an elf on the team is hardly run-of-the-mill, is it?”

“Hardly.”

“I bet the Initiative would just love to get their mitts on him.”

“I’ll bet they would.” Xander looked sideways at Buffy. “But you’ve got your man on the inside, haven’t you? Couldn’t you explain to him about Legolas?”

“Riley’s out of town at the moment, and besides . . .” she seemed to be casting about for the words. “I wouldn’t want to put him in a difficult position.”

Too right. Obedience to the line of command and duty before all things. That much Xander remembered clearly from his brief spell in uniform. It was far too early in the relationship for Buffy to try testing those sorts of loyalties. Maybe it was a good thing her boyfriend was away.

“D’you not think they’d be able to tell a good non-human from a bad one?” he ventured.

“I’m not so sure, but I kinda imagine a ‘shoot first, ask questions afterwards’ policy, don’t you? It could all go horribly wrong.”

“Right. I hope Legolas got back okay.”

“Oh, he’ll have got back. What I’m worried about is whether Giles has got any way of hiding him from their sensors. It’s all pretty high-tech stuff.” 

They looked at each other for a moment in the orange light of the streetlamp. 

“Go on,” said Xander. “You’d better. I’ll catch up.”

Buffy nodded, then broke into a run.


	5. Chapter 5

One of them was safe. It was something to be thankful for.

Giles waited until Willow disappeared into the dormitory building before starting the engine, wincing as the car lurched into gear. Perhaps it was time to get rid of the ludicrous old contraption, replace it with something a bit more functional. It might be an option once he’d sorted out the small matter of employment. . .

Driving back home through the quiet streets he wondered how much of the evening’s discussion Willow had really taken to heart. She meant no harm, that was certain, but having had the taste of mystical power, would she be able to let it go? He recalled Legolas’s doubts in that direction, and sighed.

Willow was out of harm’s way for this evening, at least. That only left Buffy and Xander to worry about. And Legolas, of course. Giles reprimanded himself for the anxious knot in his stomach at the thought of the elf out fighting in the woods alongside the Slayer. His presence should be a blessing, some worthwhile back-up for Buffy and a source of comfort for her friends. If only that was the whole of it.

The sight of a black-clad figure lurking in the shadows by the door did absolutely nothing to lift his spirits.

“Haven’t you annoyed me enough already today?” he asked wearily as he climbed out of the car.

“Forgot what I came for in all the excitement, didn’t I?” sneered Spike. “You still driving that crappy old banger? When are you going to scrap it and get a decent set of wheels?”

Oh, just great - lifestyle advice from a neutered vampire. Could things get much worse? He forced himself not to rise to the bait.

“And what exactly was it that you came for? I only hope it’s something quick, because I don’t think I can stand much more of your company this evening.”

“Well, get you, Mr. Irritable,” said the vampire archly, following him into the house uninvited. “What’s the matter, is Leggy Lass playing hard to get?”

“Will you please leave it out?” Calm, Giles, calm. “And don’t refer to Legolas like that.”

“Bit appropriate though, isn’t it?” Spike flung himself down on the sofa, grinning. 

“No it is not! There’s nothing feminine about him.”

“No, definitely not.” The voice was heavy with irony. “Of course, I don’t go for blokes myself, but I have to admit, I’ve been wondering all evening what elf might taste like.” The vampire bared his teeth and ran his tongue across his upper incisors suggestively. 

“You disgust me,” Giles snapped, trying to ignore the rising heat in his face and neck.

“Rich and rather sweet, wouldn’t you think? Shouldn’t be surprised if you quite fancy the idea of sucking on him yourself.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Giles brought his hand up to hide his eyes and massage his temples with fingers and thumb. Heaven knows, he needed to relax. Damn the fiend – how did he always manage to be so appallingly perceptive? He couldn’t just hit the nail on the head, he had to pound it mercilessly with an oversized mallet.

“You’re on a hiding to nothing with that plea,” Spike said, laughing. “Hell-spawn demon here, remember?”

“I could hardly forget, when you take every possible opportunity to remind me.” He dropped his hand and glared at the vampire. “What did you come here for? Just to ruin my evening, or to try to get yourself killed by Legolas? Perhaps you should have another go at him and let him finish you off; it would do us all a favour.” 

“Might well do just that. I wonder which of us would enjoy it more?” Spike slid off the sofa and stalked across the room to the chest in the corner. “I came for this,” he said, rummaging around and retrieving a crumpled black object. “My favourite T shirt. Knew it was here, haven’t seen it since you kicked me out to stay in Pizza Boy’s basement.” He stuffed the garment in a coat pocket.

“Well now you’ve got it you can leave. I don’t need to hear any more smutty comments about my guest.”

“You know, he wouldn’t be as horrified by the idea as you might imagine.” The vampire’s tone was suddenly quite different, almost pleasant, insinuating.

Giles knew he shouldn’t fall for it, but the words were out before he could stop them. “What do you mean?”

Spike raised an eyebrow as he dropped into his seat and leaned back, linking his fingers behind his head. “Don’t be fooled by the Ice Queen image,” he said with a sly smile. “The elf’s hot-blooded alright. I could feel it through his skin, practically smell it on him. For a moment I thought the old librarian had got lucky, until I saw the state you were in.”

“I cannot believe I am sitting here listening to this.” 

“Don’t bother trying to pretend it’s not what you want to hear. It’s written all over you.”

No doubt that part of it was true. Giles shuddered at the thought that Legolas was probably every bit as aware of it as Spike. At least the elf was gracious enough to ignore it. 

“It doesn’t mean you’re not lying,” he said sharply, not even attempting to deny his interest. “You’re hardly a reliable source. You’ve already given me two different versions of why you turned up here today.”

“Well what do you expect from an evil son-of-a-bitch like me?” Spike was clearly having a great time. “Mind you, on this occasion I’m giving it to you straight. But if you don’t believe me, you can ask the blond bombshell himself,” he tilted his head towards the door. “Here he is now.”

Sure enough, a second later there was a discreet knock at the door before Legolas slipped inside. 

The elf had changed back into his own forest-coloured clothes for the orc hunt. With his hair braided back, weapons slung across his shoulder and face glowing, he looked his true self, an other-worldly warrior, vital and strong. For once Spike made no comment, but simply widened his eyes in mute appraisal while Legolas allowed a slight frown to settle on his features at the sight of the vampire.

“Legolas – are the others with you?” Giles started towards the door.

“No, but they are safe.”

“And the Uruk-Hai?”

“Dead,” replied the elf shortly, unstrapping his quiver and setting it beside the long curved bow against the wall. “Whether we killed them all remains to be seen, but we certainly took the majority.”

“And you didn’t invite me along for the fight?” Spike complained. “Should have told me there was some orc ass to be kicked. I’d have joined you.”

Legolas glanced briefly at the vampire but otherwise ignored the comment. “Buffy and Xander insisted that I run back here,” he said earnestly to Giles, “and ask that you conceal me from the . . . Initiative.”

“The Initiative? They were there?” A sick feeling began in his gut. “Did they see you?”

“No, they were approaching, men on foot and a flying machine. I wished to stay to aid the others but they were adamant that I should leave with all haste.” 

“They were quite right,” said Giles grimly. “We can’t have the army finding you.”

“Oh, bloody wonderful, so you’ve led them right here, guns blazing and ready for action?” All hint of playfulness was gone from Spike’s voice. “Great strategy! Well, I’m out of here before the fur starts flying.”

Giles crossed the room to the shelves where he kept the oldest magic books, a plan forming in his mind. “Do shut up, Spike. And you might stay, you could be useful for once. A third person to work the spell would be -”

“D’you think I’m mad? Magic isn’t going to stop those nutters. They’re packing some serious conventional weaponry, and a few unconventional pieces besides.”

“I may not be able to stop them, but we should be able to keep them away,” replied Giles, crouching before the bookcase and leafing through the ancient Grimoire. “If their sensors work by detecting disturbances in the mystical energy field, a generalised concealing spell should hold them off. It will only need -”

The slam of the door silenced him, bringing him to his feet to spin round and face Legolas. 

The elf regarded him anxiously. “Should I have stopped him?”

“No, don’t worry,” Giles sighed. “We can manage with just the two of us, but it will take a little longer. I just need to get some things from the other room, then we can start.”

“Rupert, I do not understand what this Initiative is, nor why it is such a threat. But I have no wish to put you and your young friends at risk. Would it not be better for me to leave and hide elsewhere? They would follow me and leave you alone, would they not?”

“That’s out of the question! You must stay here! I can’t protect you otherwise.” Without thinking Giles reached out and grasped the elf’s wrist, then dropped his hand back rapidly as if burned, shocked by his own audacity. 

Legolas did not seem affronted by the touch. He stared into Giles’s eyes as he slowly raised his own hand and rested it on the man’s shoulder. For a moment his expression was searching, as if he was trying to be sure that Giles really wanted him to stay, then his face relaxed and a smile broke across it.

Time seemed to stop for Giles as awareness of the elf’s fingers on his wool-clad flesh crowded everything else out of his mind. 

“Thank you, my friend,” said Legolas at last. “It is a great comfort to me in this strange world to know that there is one who would risk his own safety to ensure mine.” He let his arm fall back to his side. “Now, what must we do?”

********************

They had barely finished the ritual when Buffy arrived, flushed and a little breathless. She took in the chalked symbols, the powders and the candles with a knowing glance. 

“Sorted?”

“I very much hope so,” said Giles gravely, retrieving dustpan and broom from the kitchen cupboard. “So long as they haven’t trailed Legolas right to the door, they should pass us by.”

“They haven’t got this far,” the Slayer replied confidently.

“Please, allow me.” Legolas took the dustpan from Giles and crouched to collect the sweepings as the man steered them his way. “Buffy, where is Xander?”

“Couldn’t keep up, I’m afraid, and I wanted to get back quickly to make sure you were okay. He’ll be along shortly.”

“Did you see the army boys?” Giles enquired.

“Saw them, but from a distance, and they didn’t see us. Riley’s colleagues still don’t know about me, and I’m not about to come out to them over a pile of bodies.”

“Very wise.”

“Perhaps now the immediate danger is behind us you would be so kind as to tell me about this organisation,” said Legolas, standing upright and handing the dustpan back to Giles. 

“Buffy?” He left the Slayer to explain while he headed back to the kitchen.

“Well, they’re army, and technically good guys, no, definitely good guys, but they’re a bit enthusiastic,” she said. “They catch demons and do tests on them, experiments. They stuck something in Spike’s head to make him harmless.”

“And you believe they pose a threat to me because they would take me for a demon?”

“There’s a chance they’d accept that you’re good, but they’d be likely to whack you with twenty thousand volts first.”

“With twenty thousand . . .?”

“Oh, sorry, my bad.” Buffy raised her voice a little. “Giles, are you planning to explain to Legolas about the wonders of the modern world?”

“Well, I suppose so, if that’s what he wants.” Giles stepped back into the lounge as a delicious idea occurred to him. He turned to the elf. “I don’t think it will be safe for you to go out for a while, at least until Buffy’s friend Riley returns and she can find out whether the house is being watched. We’ll need to find you something to pass the time.”

It would probably violate some great cosmic law, but the thought was irresistible. Legolas, wide-eyed at his side, learning from him of humanity’s finer achievements. Shakespeare, Mozart, electromagnetic induction . . . suddenly there seemed to be far too few hours between now and Friday.

His eagerness must have been apparent. “There is much I would learn of your world, if you are willing to teach me,” Legolas said warmly.

“Willing? It would be an absolute pleasure.” Giles met the elf’s eyes and answered his smile in kind. A tingle started somewhere in his brain as they shared a moment of perfect understanding.

“And if you’re dead of boredom by the end of the week, I promise we’ll send you back to Middle Earth in a box,” Buffy put in. She caught Giles’s look. “I know, I know. Going off to meet Xander now.” She grinned cheekily before grabbing her coat and striding to the door.

Giles, left alone with Legolas once more, felt suddenly, ridiculously shy. “Er . . . would you care for some tea?” he offered foolishly.

The elf smiled broadly. “Very much so,” he said, “Although I would wash and change my clothing first.” He indicated the dark splash across the front of his tunic, orc blood, no doubt. 

“Of course, please go ahead. I’ll put the kettle on.”

Giles watched Legolas run lightly up the stairs and almost had to shake himself to bring his thoughts into focus. He should put some music on, introduce the elf to some of his favourites. Crossing to the stereo, he quickly surveyed his CD and vinyl collection. Really, this promised to be quite sinfully enjoyable.

The only problem, of course, was knowing where to start.


	6. Chapter 6

Giles put the phone down gently and let his hand rest on it for a moment as he shut his eyes and considered the details of the conversation. He should be overjoyed for Legolas. Miranda had been careful to spell out her caveats, but all in all the prognosis was positive; the elf stood an excellent chance of returning home by the end of the week. Good news indeed. If he could only quell the rising sense of despair, the almost physical pain he felt at the thought of the elf’s departure, he might be able to share in his guest’s happiness.

He stood for a moment just watching Legolas, letting himself believe that the elf was temporarily unaware of his scrutiny. As usual, Legolas had put on the headphones when Giles rose to answer the phone. He sat now with his eyes closed, the slight rhythmic swaying of his head indicating his absorption in the music, the smile curving his lips evidence of his enjoyment. As Giles stared in helpless fascination the CD apparently came to an end; Legolas shifted in his seat with a sigh and opened his eyes. Turning to his host as he took the headphones off, he said simply, “It is sublime.”

J.S. Bach, the double violin concerto. The elf had shown great enthusiasm for most of the works in Giles’s collection, from early plainsong to ‘70’s blues-based rock, from Andean pipe music to rich flamenco guitar, Haydn quartets to Shostakovich symphonies; but time and again he returned to Bach, loving, as he put it, ‘the clarity, the simplicity at the heart of the beauty.’ 

Giles took a deep breath and joined his guest at the table. The detritus of the week’s activities had been pushed at one end into neat piles of books, magazines, sketches and tapes. An upended bicycle still graced the centre of the room, and a collection of parts from old flashlights and motorised toys sat on a tray along with the meters and magnets which Willow had somehow managed to borrow from the university. Luckily Willow herself had been available to answer some of Legolas’s more esoteric questions about the physical phenomena they had explored. Giles considered himself to be reasonably well educated all round, but he knew his own limitations.

“It was Miranda,” he began, settling into the chair across from Legolas.

“Yes.” The elf sat very still.

“She will be here by Tuesday. It seems very likely that she will be able to help you, to send you home.”

There was no cry of joy, no laughter or exclamation in response to this announcement. Legolas simply nodded, smiling a little in a solemn fashion.

“You must be happy,” Giles prompted.

“Of course. But ‘very likely’ does not mean ‘certain,’” the elf said succinctly, his face still serious.

“You’re probably right to be circumspect. However, I doubt that there will be any problems. The process, it seems, depends very much on you and how strong a sense you have of the place and time you came from. I told Miranda that in that respect working with an elf would make her job easier than usual.”

Legolas relaxed a little and his smile broadened. “It is true that my memory is somewhat different from that of a human,” he allowed. “If I still myself completely and bring my thoughts to a focus, every one of my senses will be filled with the forest of my home.” 

“Indeed,” said Giles dryly, trying hard to appear positive. “Well, we can only wait and see, but I think Miranda will get you back there. She’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“And I to making the acquaintance of such a powerful sorcerer.”

Giles glanced round the room, imagining how empty it would look once Legolas was gone, and all the educational materials returned to their rightful places. He was aware that he was being watched closely by his companion.

“Do not imagine that my joy will be untainted by regret.” The elf’s voice was gentle. “This time with you – and all that you are teaching me – is a great gift.”

“I think I’m learning more than I’m teaching,” Giles replied. It was so true. His apt, intelligent pupil was every teacher’s dream, leading him to see his own knowledge in a new light and divulging all sorts of fascinating detail about the real Middle Earth in the process. If he could only write a book of all that Legolas had told him, what a revelation it would be to Tolkien fans everywhere! If there were no copyright issues to be considered . . . it would seem criminally selfish to keep the information to himself, even if he would have to pass it off as fiction. Perhaps when all this was over he would have a serious talk with Willow about the inherent possibilities of the internet.

“If you have the stomach for it, I would dearly like to continue with this.” Legolas interrupted his daydream, indicating the encyclopaedia that lay open to show an exploded diagram of a helicopter. “The fact that I may only have three more days here lends a certain urgency to my studies.”

The elf’s eagerness was enough to break his heart; he couldn’t stop his face betraying his dismay.

“What is wrong? Do not fear - I have no intention of unleashing the terrors of your technology on my own unready world,” said Legolas. “Although I shall not be able to resist conducting my own investigations to see if the same natural laws are at work in both universes, I give you my word that I shall do so in absolute secrecy.”

“It’s not that,” Giles fought back the urge to lean across the table and lay a hand on the elf’s arm. “Legolas, there is something you must understand about your return home. You will not -” he sighed, then began again. “In order to get you back safely, Miranda will have to return you to the exact time and place that you came from. It will be a temporal shift, as well as a spatial one.” 

“But my memory . . .?” 

“As far as you are concerned, this time will not have existed at all. You will remember nothing, since there will be nothing for you to remember.”

The elf was silent for a long while. His face showed no disappointment, just an unfathomable blankness. At last he asked quietly, “And you?”

“There will be no change to our reality here. I assure you, I shall remember everything.”

Again there was silence while Giles searched for something appropriate to say. He was a complete fool not to have realised from the start that this was how it would be. And quite right too, in the grand cosmic scheme of things. The only cause for surprise was the fact that he’d be able to hang onto his own memories of this whole astonishing encounter.

Legolas blinked once and smiled gravely at him. “It is no doubt for the best,” he said softly. He slid the encyclopaedia across the table and stared down at it for a moment before lifting his head and meeting Giles’s eyes again. “In any case, I have no wish to discontinue our arrangement,” he went on. “I shall simply enjoy the knowledge for its own sake; and you shall remember for both of us.”

Something about the way the elf said this made the blood rush to Giles’s head. He didn’t trust himself to comment in response. Oh, he would remember alright. He avoided looking at Legolas as he reached for the pencil and notepad. Clearing his throat discreetly he willed himself to calm down, and prepared to launch back into the technological miracle of flight.

The afternoon passed pleasurably, with the conversation soon flowing freely once again. From the principle of the aerofoil and the jet engine they moved on to twentieth century human history and a lengthy discussion of power politics in post-war Gondor. They listened to some mesmerising Moroccan music and finally watched a video about the works of Michelangelo. 

It proved to be an interesting choice.

“The sculptures are remarkable,” said Legolas thoughtfully. “Such energy in the stone, and such sensuality too – I do not believe that I have seen its like, and nor shall I again. Tell me, was Michelangelo a lover of men?”

Giles spluttered in his tea. “Yes, indeed. It is documented fact, although not all television programmes would choose to mention it.”

“Why not? How can one understand the artist without some knowledge of his personal passions?” The elf narrowed his eyes. “Is such love deemed unacceptable in your society?”

Of all the possible subjects for discussion, this would be the last one he would choose. “Yes and no,” he said. “Things have changed for the better and such prejudice is widely challenged, but there are still plenty of people who firmly believe that same sex relationships of an, um, intimate nature, are quite wrong.” 

“Then you are not so very different from the men of my world,” Legolas replied, evenly.

“And elves?” The question had to be asked. He tried to keep his tone of voice neutral, that of the calmly interested scholar.

“We celebrate love in all its forms. My people are more concerned with self discipline and fidelity than with the actual choice of partner.” There seemed to be a trace of rueful sadness behind the elf’s words. 

Luckily, Legolas did not seem keen to pursue the topic further. As if by agreement, they moved swiftly on to a comparison of the human Renaissance period and the elven Second Age. 

Later that evening they stood together in the kitchen, continuing the conversation while they prepared a meal. Legolas worked swiftly, the long knife flashing rather alarmingly in his hand as he nimbly peeled and diced a pan of carrots. Giles, scrubbing potatoes at the sink, watched from the corner of his eye and thought of Buffy’s natural flair with weapons of all descriptions. It was a great shame that Legolas was not free to patrol with her. She would have learned from him, and had a rare opportunity to share the burden of her calling. Of course, her loss was Giles’s gain.

It seemed that Legolas’s thoughts were also straying. “It is an intriguing situation, is it not?” He paused in his work and held the knife up before him, twirling it rapidly between his palms to catch the light. “Whatever deeds I may commit here, when I return to my own world it will be as if I have done nothing. There will be no memory, no satisfaction, no remorse. It poses an interesting moral question, to my mind.”

“Which is?” With some difficulty, Giles took his eyes from the spinning blade in order to pay attention to the elf’s odd expression.

“Supposing I were to commit some act, some misdeed – a murder, for instance. Upon returning to my world, would I be guilty of the crime, or not?” 

Legolas was now flicking the knife in a figure of eight pattern by some rapid trick of his fingers. His eyes never left the blade as he spoke and Giles found it impossible not to follow suit. He wondered briefly how many years of practice it had taken for the elf to develop such agility.

“You would be guilty, but you would not know it,” he said. “You would live out your days as an innocent man – elf – and there would be nobody to tell you differently. The only question, I suppose, is whether your gods would know what you had done, whether they would judge you.”

“My gods!” Legolas threw the knife, spinning, into the air, caught it deftly and set it down on the chopping board before turning to Giles. His face was serious, and in his eyes there was something ancient and sorrowful. “My gods have already judged me, I fear.”

Giles regarded him speechlessly for a moment. This was something he had never thought to see: a glimpse of the true emotional depths beneath the elf’s smoothly composed exterior. His spine started to prickle as he wondered what further mysteries the elf was concealing What terrible thing had he done to lead to such bitterness? There was no way he could ask, and any words of comfort he could come up with would only seem trite. 

He opted for levity. “Well, I sincerely hope that it is Spike you are planning to do away with. I cannot imagine that the gods of any universe would hold that against you.”

To his relief, his comment drew a laugh from Legolas. “Do not worry, Rupert. I am not intending to kill anyone, not even Spike, although the idea is strangely tempting. It was merely a hypothetical question and I did not mean to alarm you.”

“You didn’t alarm me,” Giles lied quickly. “I could hardly have taken you seriously.” 

It was easy to say the words, but he knew quite well that he would be awake half the night seeing that haunted look in the elf’s eyes. He would give a great deal to know what lay behind it. If only he could ask Legolas directly what had happened to cause him such pain. If only they had more time.


	7. Chapter 7

“So then he says to me, ‘Come over here, little girl, and let me take a look at that pretty neck of yours,’ and I say, ‘Yeah, like I’m going to fall for that old line? Don’t you vamps ever come up with anything new? And what are you, a hundred years old and you still haven’t learned to pick out a shirt that matches your pants?’ so then he gets really mad, and he’s like, ‘Aaarrghh,’ and I go, wap, wap, wap, but I haven’t brought a stake so I have to smash the glass over the fire axe so I can dust him, and then the alarm goes off, and ugh, sprinklers, wet hair, not good.” 

“Just a regular afternoon at the mall, then.” Xander grinned at his friend. 

“Guess so. Don’tcha just love this town? Gum?” Buffy held the pack out towards him. 

“Thanks.” They walked in easy silence for a while.

“Did you get the books Giles wanted?” Xander asked.

“Yes, but what he needs them for is beyond me. I’m beginning to feel seriously sorry for Legolas.”

“Don’t be,” he said firmly. “From what I can see the elf’s fully committed to the programme.”

“I suppose so. All the way up there on the intellectual level with Will and Giles.” 

“Right. D’you know, when I came by last night Will was teaching him chemistry. And he was enjoying it, I swear.”

“Yeah, well you missed the Greek mythology session,” said Buffy darkly.

“No kidding? I could have got into that, all wild sex and fancy weapons.”

“Oh no, this was the fun-free version. ‘Layers of meaning in Bronze Age society.’ Hanging out in cemeteries with the undead’s never looked so appealing.” 

Xander chuckled and opened his mouth for the quippy response that never came. 

“Down!” the Slayer hissed suddenly, shoving him hard into the nearest gateway. She dropped her tote bag and whirled about, fists up. Xander peered around anxiously, trying to spot the threat. Ah, there – it didn’t look good. Tall, bulky, black clad –

“Riley?”

“Buffy!” He didn’t seem as pleased as a guy should when he bumps into his main squeeze for the first time in a week. “Xander, hey,” he added as an afterthought.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be out of town!” Come to think of it, Buffy didn’t sound exactly overjoyed, either. Not surprising, really. It could hardly be coincidence that Riley had shown up right outside Giles’s house.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t tell you I was back. I’ve been out of sight on covert ops.”

“Yeah. Covertly opping right around here.”

“Buffy, you can’t go in there.” 

Well, it was obvious they hadn’t been together very long. Otherwise Riley would have known that wasn’t a great way to talk to the Slayer. Xander cringed and thought about ducking for cover as Buffy drew herself up to her full height.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said with icy sweetness. “For a moment there I thought you said I couldn’t go into my friend’s house.”

“I’m serious.” 

“And so am I. Would you mind getting out of my way?”

“Buffy, will you just listen for a minute?” When Riley grabbed the Slayer’s wrist, Xander realised for the first time just how small and fragile his friend seemed next to her boyfriend. Still, if it came to an all out fight, he wouldn’t rate the army boy’s chances, not one bit.

“Make it quick, and make it good,” Buffy said.

“I’ve got reason to believe that your friend is harbouring an HST in there,” Riley said, a bit dramatically.

“Oh, please. This is Giles we’re talking about.” 

Xander added his best sarcastic laugh. “Mr. Straightlaced? You are joking, right?”

“Mr. Straightlaced?” Riley echoed. “With his long and interesting record of dealings in the occult?”

Suddenly this wasn’t funny any more. Xander shifted nervously on his feet, toying with the idea of running for it, getting in round the back of the house and warning Legolas. Not an option, he realised. There was probably a unit already in place round the corner.

“So what makes you think he’s got something in there?” Buffy was asking.

“We lost one a few nights ago, heading in this direction. Since then something weird’s been going on with our sensors in this area and we’ve narrowed it down to these few blocks. I looked at the residents list and had a kind of a hunch.” 

“Well, a hunch is a hunch,” said Buffy brightly. “Doesn’t make it right.”

“I’m picking up two life forms in there,” Riley replied in a monotone, waving the black box in his hand. “Who’s the other one?”

Xander prepared to launch into an explanation about Giles’s cousin Rodney, confined to the house with a debilitating disease, but Buffy got in first.

“Probably Willow in there just now,” she said with a shrug. Ten out of ten for her acting skills.

“Look, Buffy, I haven’t told anyone else about my hunch, because of you. I’ve had to do some fast talking to get out here and monitor the place on my own.”

“That’s really very sweet of you.” The Slayer stepped a bit closer to her boyfriend and gave him her most dazzling smile. “But it doesn’t stop me thinking you’re losing it. Come on, let’s go get a coffee, and we can talk about it.” 

“You can’t distract me,” said Riley firmly. “I’m going in there myself to find out the truth.” He pulled away from Buffy and strode towards the door.

Xander exchanged a desperate look with the Slayer. They couldn’t protest too much; that would make it obvious Giles was hiding something. They could only hope Legolas had heard all the noise outside and already made a run for it.

Riley was knocking forcefully on the door. “Mr. Giles?” 

“Are you crazy?” Buffy said. “You can’t go forcing your way into people’s houses. You’re not even on duty!”

“I can ask him,” her boyfriend replied simply. He knocked again, a little harder.

All three of them froze as they heard footsteps approaching and the sound of the bolt being drawn back. The door opened slowly. Giles stood there, looking somewhat annoyed.

“Riley! This is a surprise,” he said acidly, then nodded at the others. “Good evening Buffy, Xander.” He stayed in the doorway, making it quite clear the conversation would take place right there. “Is there a problem? I was rather busy.”

Riley cleared his throat. “Mr. Giles, Sir,” he said. “I have reason to believe that there is an HST in the area, most likely highly dangerous, and it may have holed up in or around your property. Have you seen or heard anything unusual in the last few days?”

“An HST?” Giles asked.

“Hostile Sub-Terrestrial, Sir. A demon.”

“Hostile Sub…” Giles laughed suddenly, then shook his head. “You military types will never cease to amaze me,” he said. “And no, nothing unusual around here, I can assure you.” 

Riley didn’t seem to be taken in by Giles’s response. He stared at the older man for a moment. “Could I come in?” he asked. “There may be signs you’ve missed that I could pick up.”

“You most certainly could not,” Giles said sniffily. “I was in the middle of something, and I do not need to be disturbed by you and your infernal devices poking around my house. If there was anything here I would know it, believe me.”

“Mr. Giles, it would be better if you let me in. You wouldn’t want the whole team round here.”

Giles crossed his arms over his chest and gave Riley a look that would turn a nun to stone at fifty paces. “Are you threatening me, young man?” he asked. Even Xander shuddered at the tone of his voice.

Riley didn’t answer, however. He was too busy peering over Giles’s shoulder with a funny look on his face. Xander glanced in the same direction and felt his heart sink. Why did Legolas have to show up now? Couldn’t he have kept his head down?

“Rupert, it might be better if you invited your young friends in,” the elf said calmly from behind Giles. “He is alone, but he will not leave without some explanation.”

Giles looked as if he might slam the door in their faces for a moment, but Legolas got in first. 

“Do not fear, Rupert. No harm will come of it.”

Giles reluctantly moved out of the way and gestured them inside. Nobody spoke for a moment. Xander was watching Riley and trying hard to figure out what was going on. The army boy was staring at the elf as if he couldn’t tear himself away, and his eyes seemed to have glazed over. Alright, the elf was worth looking at – even Xander, who’d never had a gay tendency in his life, could see that – but this was taking things a bit far. He wondered briefly if Riley might be batting for the other team. You know what they say about these macho army types… he had to stuff his knuckles in his mouth to stop a nervous laugh at the thought.

Legolas seemed perfectly relaxed as he stepped up to Riley and broke the silence. 

“Well met, Friend,” he said, extending a hand. “You are Riley, are you not? A fellow warrior, I believe.”

Riley took the hand mechanically, without taking his eyes off the elf. He didn’t seem to notice that Legolas didn’t let go after they shook, although everyone else in the room was staring pointedly at the two of them standing there, holding hands. The urge to giggle hit Xander again and he bit his lip to control it.

“You’re…you’re -” Riley seemed to be having some trouble with his voice.

“A visitor to your world, yes. A demon, no,” replied Legolas. “There is a considerable difference between the two.”

“Who – what are you?”

“My name is Legolas, and I am an Edhel from a world called Arda, to which I hope to return within a matter of days,” said the elf gently. “I have no quarrel with humans; we fight on the same side, you and I.”

There was a long pause before Riley nodded slightly. He still didn’t seem to be able to drop his eyes, and Legolas still held his hand.

“Your organisation would like to learn of me, I think,” the elf went on.

“Yes… yes, they would want to investigate you.”

“My friends have been generous in concealing me from the Initiative thus far, but I long to breathe the air of your world once more before I leave,” Legolas said calmly. “It is time for you to help me.”

Four pairs of eyes now gazed at Legolas in astonishment.

“Your instruments have traced my presence to this area, but not specifically to this house. Am I correct?”

“Y – yes,” Riley stuttered.

“Then it should be a simple matter to stumble across evidence that will bring the matter to a swift conclusion. Signs of the recent departure of a demon in an empty dwelling somewhere nearby, for instance. It will be an easy task for you to arrange it, and I have no doubt that Buffy will aid you.”

There was a moment’s silence. The air in the room had suddenly got very heavy.

“I could be court-martialled,” croaked Riley.

“Undoubtedly,” said the elf smoothly. Xander wondered if he had the faintest idea what a court martial actually was. “But you will do your work well, and none will realise the truth.”

“But…”

The elf untangled his fingers from Riley’s and slid his hand up the soldier’s arm, moving a little closer as he did so. When his palm rested on the other’s shoulder and they stood eye to eye he spoke again.

“Will you do this for me, Riley?” he asked. 

Xander realised he was shivering, although it was a warm evening. There was something very strange going on here.

“Yes, I’ll do it.” Riley’s voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. 

“Good. It is the right decision.” Legolas stepped back and withdrew his arm. He flashed his everyday smile at Riley and the tension in the room seemed to dissolve. 

Riley glanced round at the others with a look of total disbelief on his face. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead.

“Er, excuse me,” he said. “I really don’t feel too great. I think I need…” he headed for the door and was out before he could finish his sentence.

“He is unharmed. He simply needs to breathe deeply,” Legolas observed.

Buffy, hands on hips, fixed the elf with a serious glare. “Legolas, did you just hypnotise my boyfriend?” she demanded.

“Hypnotise? I do not believe I know the meaning of this word,” said the elf innocently.  
Buffy gave him a Look. “You’re not all sweetness and light, are you? But then I should’ve known that, I’ve fought beside you,” she said. “I’d better go after him.”

Once the door had closed behind the Slayer, Giles and Xander turned to Legolas. 

“What did you do?” Giles asked.

”Yeah, what is that freaky mind control thing you’ve got going on? You could have warned us about it,” Xander added.

Legolas sighed. “I would not have resorted to such measures unless it was strictly necessary,” he said, “and you have nothing to fear. Most humans are not open to me, unless the circumstances are exceptional. I could not have done such a thing with any of you. But Riley – there is something unusual about his mind that makes him very susceptible. I sensed it when he stood at the door, which is why I allowed myself to be seen. I do not know what it is.”

“Bootcamp,” Xander said suddenly. The elf looked at him quizzically. “Where they train you for the army. They break you down, humiliate you so you learn how to accept orders without questioning them. It’d be enough to mess up anyone’s head.”

Legolas nodded. “Maybe you are right, but I sense something else as well. Magic, perhaps, or a potion of some sort? I do not know.”

“I wouldn’t put anything past the American army,” Giles said bleakly. “They like their recruits to do as they’re told. Are you sure he’s going to call the dogs off?”

“If by that you mean will he end the search for me, yes, I am sure. He will do whatever is in his power.” Legolas smiled warmly at Giles and Xander watched as the Englishman visibly relaxed. 

“Then you don’t have to be confined to the house any more.”

“No, indeed. I shall feel the air on my face tonight, at last.” The elf placed a hand on Giles’s arm. “After we finish our discussions,” he added.

Xander grinned as inspiration struck him. “No, wait,” he said. “I’ve got a better idea.” They looked at him expectantly. “Legolas, you’ve spent all week getting Giles’s take on culture. How about tonight you come out with us young things and see something a bit different?”

********************

 

“Ask him. Just walk right over there and ask him. It’s not difficult,” said Xander, almost shouting to be heard over the music.

“I can’t ask him.” Willow’s voice had reached the high pitched squeak that meant melt-down was imminent.

“Why not? What’s the worst that can happen? If he says no, he’s bound to do it nicely.”

“It’s not-”

“Actually the worst case scenario is that he says yes, and then you get out there and he does some weird freaky elf-dance, and everybody in the place turns and laughs at you both.”

That put an end to her hysterical moment. Willow raised her eyebrows at him before turning to look across at Legolas. Xander’s gaze followed hers. 

“Can you see it? Really?” she asked.

“No, he’s probably as good at dancing as he is at everything else.” The elf had claimed he’d never played pool before, but that hadn’t stopped him learning mighty fast.

“I know I’m being pathetic. But he’s just so… so…”

“Yeah, right. And he’s also spent the whole week listening to Giles holding forth about life, the universe and everything. He could probably use a bit of distraction right about now. So go and ask him. Look, I’ll come with you, OK?”

Actually Legolas didn’t seem in the least bit bored. He and Giles had settled themselves in comfy seats at a low table and were knocking back the beers in style. They never seemed to be short of something to talk about. Legolas’s long white hands made patterns in the air as he spoke, and Giles was positively beaming. Still, they’d brought the elf out for a night on the town, so it was time to see it done properly. 

Willow nervously followed Xander’s lead as he crossed to the table. 

“Well, my elven friend,” said Xander jovially, dropping into the chair next to Legolas. “What do you think of the place? Must all seem a bit odd to you.”

“The music is strange, and the style of dancing is different,” replied Legolas with a smile, “But the mood of the place is not unfamiliar to me. My people are most fond of revelry.” 

“And of beer, by the looks of things.”

“Ah, I would hardly call this beer,” the elf laughed and indicated his half-empty glass, “having had the incomparable experience of tasting dwarf-brewed ale. But it is refreshing in its way.”

“You’d be happier with a good English pint,” pronounced Giles. “Willow, are you intending to sit down? Your hovering is making me uncomfortable.”

“Actually,” Willow was shuffling from foot to foot. “We came over to see… I wanted to know if…” It seemed as if she was going to peter out completely, so Xander surreptitiously poked her in the leg for moral support. “Legolas, I know this isn’t dancing like you’re used to, and I’m no good at it, but would you like to dance with me?” It came out, finally, in a rush.

The elf bowed his head graciously. “I should be absolutely delighted,” he said. “Shall we begin now, or wait until the next melody starts?”

“Oh, I don’t think we need to wait,” Willow said breathlessly. “It doesn’t make that much difference here. You just get up and… do your thing.”

“And shake your funky monkey,” added Xander, helpfully. He decided not to notice Giles’s look of scorn.

Legolas unfolded himself from the seat in one fluid motion. They hadn’t quite managed a clubbing outfit for him, but at least they’d tracked down a pair of jeans that were long enough in the leg. With a borrowed black T shirt, they were easily smart enough for the Bronze.

Giles and Xander nursed their drinks and watched as the elf followed Willow onto the dance floor. It soon became obvious that Legolas wasn’t going to show Willow up. That didn’t mean he wasn’t attracting attention.

“Quite the super-elf, isn’t he? All-singing, all-dancing,” said Xander conversationally.

“Quite,” replied Giles dryly.

“Well I only hope his hand-to-hand’s as good as his archery. Looks like he might need it, if he goes on like that.”

Giles snorted into his drink and finished it off in one gulp. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said hurriedly, “I think I need to go and…” 

Xander nodded as the older man got up and headed off in the direction of the bathrooms. He sat back to watch his friends, tapping a foot in time to the heavily bass-driven track. Hopefully Buffy and Anya would turn up soon. They so should not be missing this.

He didn’t have to wait long for company to arrive, but it wasn’t quite what he was expecting.

“Spike! What are you doing here?”

The vampire flung himself into the seat opposite Xander. “Having a night out and a quiet beer like the rest of you,” he said defensively. “Got a problem with that?”

“Well, yes, actually.” He meant to follow it up with some witticism, but suddenly realised he just couldn’t be bothered. He decided to ignore Spike altogether and let his eyes drift back to the dance floor.

Willow was jigging from foot to foot, her grin threatening to split her face in two. Meanwhile Legolas had his eyes shut and his arms crossed above his head. He was doing something with his hips that was almost certainly illegal in at least fifteen states. Most of the other dancers had managed to position themselves so they could watch him.

“Quite something, isn’t he?” said Spike, just loudly enough for Xander to hear him. “It’s no wonder the librarian’s so besotted.”

Xander made an all-purpose dismissive noise. The comment wasn’t worthy of a better response.

“He must be pretty sick if you’ve left him moping at home while the elf’s out having fun,” Spike went on.

“He’s not moping at home,” Xander retorted without thinking, and peered around the pillar behind Spike. “He’s…”

He’s at the bar, swigging what looks like a triple whisky and staring at Legolas with a really odd expression on his face. Could the vampire actually have been right? This cannot be good.

“He’s gone to the bathroom,” he concluded.

“Wonder what he’s doing in there?” Spike said, making a suggestion of his own by means of a filthy gesture. 

“You’re vile.” The words came out like a reflex.

“Well yeah, that’s what I do. Don’t suppose you can lend me the price of a pack of smokes?”

“Lend? Does that mean you’re going to pay me back?”

“Never trust the evil undead.”

“As if I need you to tell me that.” For some reason Xander got his wallet out anyway. It had to be worth a few dollars just to get rid of the vampire for a while.

Anya arrived not long after Spike had swaggered off in search of cigarettes. She was looking particularly gorgeous in a red lacy number, and Xander spent a while telling her so. Once they’d prised themselves apart, he pointed out Willow and Legolas, still engrossed in their dancing. They watched as yet another woman shimmied over in Legolas’s direction, to be met by a sweet smile and a politely dismissive word or two, followed by the back of the elf’s head as he turned towards Willow. It occurred to Xander that bringing him here might not have been the most intelligent of ideas. Even with his hair down to cover his ears, he really did stand out.

“He is most attractive,” Anya suddenly said, in her uniquely direct way. Since the announcement of Legolas’s departure date she’d stopped seeing him as a threat. “I think half the people here would like to make him their sex partner.”

“I’m guessing more than half,” replied Xander. “Just don’t say anything about it to – Oh, Giles, hey.”

The Englishman didn’t look too great. His face was red and his hair messy, as if he’d raked his fingers through it several times. No, he wasn’t at his best, and his words weren’t exactly reassuring, either.

“Hello, Anya,” he said. “Xander, would you, er, look after my drink for me? I have a mind to – to join our friends.”

Xander felt his mouth drop open as Giles strode purposefully onto the floor. Of all the weird things he’d seen in Sunnydale, this had to be the weirdest. 

Anya recovered her wits before he did. “I think I should go with him,” she said. 

“Good idea,” Xander choked. “Someone might get hurt.”

Anya threaded her way between the dancers and caught up with Giles just as he was tapping the elf on the shoulder. There was a round of greetings, then they all got back down to their funky business. From where Xander was sitting he had to admit that it looked as if Giles wasn’t doing too badly, for an old guy. And Legolas seemed pleased. Nobody was touching anybody else, but it was quite clear who was dancing together. All in all, it was quite enough to drive a man to drink. 

He was draining his glass when Buffy materialised out of nowhere and sank into the chair opposite, with her back to the dancers. 

”How’re you doing?” she asked. “A good night?”

“You could say that. How’s Riley?”

“Oh, he’ll be OK, even if his pride is a bit bent out of shape. He’s gone to sleep it off. Where are the others?”

He felt a grin spreading across his face. “Over there,” he said, indicating with a nod of the head.

Buffy squirmed round in her seat to take a look. A moment later she was staring at him, with comic-book horror written all over her face.

“Xander, pinch me now.”

“With pleasure, my dear,” he leered playfully. “Anywhere in particular?”

“I must be dreaming,” the Slayer continued. “That looked like… Giles… and he was dancing with Legolas.”

“Horrible, isn’t it?” agreed Xander gleefully.

“But, Xander, Giles!” she said.

“I know.”

“I mean, how many times have we seen the world nearly come to an end? What, five or six? I really thought nothing in this town could shock me any more. I was wrong.”

He very nearly told her that the full truth might be even more outrageous, but he bit his tongue and took another swallow of his drink instead. He wasn’t about to spread that type of rumour. Oh no, there are some things in life it’s best to keep to yourself.


	8. Chapter 8

Spike found himself humming the same tune yet again as he strode through the park on the way back from the all-night store. That was the trouble with the Bronze. You always came out of there with some crappy indie song stuck in your head and couldn’t get rid of it for days. 

Still, it had been well worth it for the sake of the floor show tonight. The thought of Giles dancing with the elf would keep him going for days. You had to hand it to the bloke – going around most of the time like he had an iron rod stuck up his backside, you wouldn’t think he had it in him. Must have been the sight of all those other would-be suitors crowding around Legolas with their tongues hanging out that had goaded him into action. Classic stuff. 

He wondered for a moment if the Englishman was actually going to get lucky. He’d be willing to bet that Legolas was interested, but no doubt there’d be some poncey moral reason why he’d have to keep his hands off.

Must be a complete pain in the arse, being good.

Spike stopped by a bench and put his grocery sack down to find his cigarettes, then lit up and inhaled deeply. He loved the buzz of that first drag. It was one of those little human pleasures he wouldn’t want to give up, like afternoon TV and onion rings. 

The cigarette was almost down to the filter when he heard the movement in the trees. His first thought was of the Initiative, but the smell wasn’t right for men. A moment later speculation became irrelevant as three large grey shapes crashed out of the undergrowth to his left, prompting him to drop both cigarette and groceries and take up a fighting stance.

Beygöar demons. He must have pissed off the underworld very severely if the price on his head was high enough to drag these guys in. Well, the one downside of demon-killing as a hobby was the fact that it was bound to win you enemies. No point trying to talk his way out of this situation; he was in with a chance, but it was a slim one. 

When two more figures appeared out of the forest and joined the others, circling him slowly with teeth bared, Spike realised this was going to be his last fight. At least he’d go out giving it hell, he wouldn’t be put down like a neutered puppy by the bloody US army. He tossed his head, felt his features rearrange themselves into the game face, and snarled. Bring it on.

The first one crashed by and took a fall under its own weight as Spike stepped to the left, sending a vicious kick to its neck to help it along. The second wasn’t far behind. It caught him a nasty blow just behind the ear before he dodged out of the way and swung for the third. There was a satisfying thunk as his fist met the scaly jaw. He spun to the side and dived between the two coming at him, then rolled to the right before another one could smash his cranium with a rock. Leaping to his feet he got in a couple of good punches and another kick before pulling back, playing for time. He could run but there’d be little point. They wouldn’t be far behind and wherever he went they’d track him down. He’d heard the Beygöar felt no pain, so it really was all or nothing. You kill them, or they just keep coming back for more.

The fighting got serious then and he went into automatic. Did some meaningful damage to the biggest of the demons, enough to put it out of action for a while, though not to finish it off. But the sheer weight of numbers was against him, even though these brutes weren’t really known for intelligent fighting. 

Before long one of them had him pinned with his arms behind his back, while another had broken off a tree branch and was about to put it to use. 

“Vam-pire, trai-tor,” it hissed as it approached, struggling to pronounce the words. 

So this was it. Strange how it didn’t really seem such a tragedy any more, not since they stuck the chip in his head. A bloke had to go sometime, and this time was as good as any.

Only it turned out not to be his moment, after all. 

The Beygöar demon drew its arm back for the kill and Spike closed his eyes in spite of himself, so he only heard the next part. The hiss broke off and a roar started in its place. Then the roar turned to a gurgle, and went quiet. The grip on his arms went slack and he opened his eyes again as he kicked back and wrestled himself free, taking advantage of the other demon’s astonished anger. 

He was more than a bit surprised himself to see Legolas whipping an evil-looking knife out of the dead Beygöar’s back and spinning round to stick it in the big one’s belly. There wasn’t time for comment, however, as three more were still up and fighting.

Now the numbers had been evened up he could start enjoying himself. He took his time with the next Beygöar, playing with it a little and feeling his strength peak. By the time he’d finished the job with a sharp twist to the neck Legolas had already despatched one of the two remaining demons and was tackling the other. 

The elf had lost his knife at some point and was fighting hand to hand. He was so quick the Beygöar couldn’t keep up with his weaving and ducking, and the bulky demon was clearly enraged by it. Spike watched in admiration as Legolas drew his opponent into a lumbering run, brought it down with a feint, and got a foot on its neck. 

There was something about the way the elf moved that filled Spike’s head with thoughts of wild, dirty sex. It was decades since he’d messed about with a bloke, but he still knew hot stuff when he saw it. 

“Here,” the vampire called, tossing Legolas the rock he’d been threatened with earlier. 

The elf glanced at him briefly, caught the rock, and brought it down two-handed on the Beygöar’s skull. There was a loud crunch and Legolas leapt away in distaste as all five demons started to shrivel and smoke, eventually reducing to small puddles of goo under the elf’s astonished gaze.

“One of the more convenient features of the Beygöar,” said Spike. “Kill off the whole posse and they take care of their own housekeeping.” 

Legolas turned to stare at him. His expression wasn’t friendly. He’d been home and changed after the Bronze, and was now in full Merry Men regalia, hair braided and tied back. He looked even better in his own clothes. Totally shaggable. Spike licked his lips, and immediately felt the weird buzzing in his head he’d first noticed at Giles’s place. It was coming from the elf, he was sure of that, but it wasn’t like any mind contact he’d ever had with a telepathic demon – and he’d met several species. This was oddly uncontrolled, and he couldn’t make it out. Intriguing. 

He relaxed his face, felt it change back to normal. “My guardian angel,” he said sarcastically. “I should be thanking you.”

“There is no need,” said Legolas shortly.

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you save my wicked life?” he prodded.

“Giles and Buffy let you live.” 

The elf showed no sign of wanting to prolong the conversation, but Spike was just warming up. He watched as Legolas bent to retrieve his knife and wiped it carefully with a handful of leaves. Once the blade was sheathed, the elf rolled up his sleeve and inspected his arm. The vampire clenched his fists and dug nails into skin as he saw the cut just above the white wrist, on the tender inside. It wasn’t deep, but the blood was welling. The scent of it hit his nostrils moments after he’d taken in the sight.

Elf blood. Rich and sweet, just as he’d imagined it. His ears started to ring and he took a step closer.

“Keep away from me!” 

The tone was hostile enough, but what he was getting in his head was… something else entirely. Spike looked the elf up and down speculatively. Seriously hot stuff. It had to be worth a go. The urge to knock him down and give him the shagging of his life was almost as strong as the bloodlust. 

He moved closer still. Any second now the elf would make a run for it.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it,” he said, feeling the clamour in his head intensify. “It’s just you and me now, nobody else’s delicate sensibilities to protect.” 

“I will not allow it,” said Legolas. He sounded desperate and looked panicked, but he wasn’t moving away.

“So stop me,” Spike smirked and closed the gap between them. 

He laughed as the elf began to put up a fight. This was more like it, an adversary who was quick, strong, intelligent – and, if he was reading the brainwaves right, hugely turned on. They grappled, threw, punched and rolled, but as far as the elf was concerned it could only have been making matters worse. Every time they touched each other the heat was turning up another notch.

It came to him in one of those weird moments of clarity that happen in the middle of a brawl. Suddenly he understood why the elf was saying one thing and doing another, why he seemed so freaked out. The strange, fuzzy brain-link he could feel was a two way thing. All that nasty, hot horniness in the elf’s head was coming from Spike himself, and Legolas was powerless to stop it, no matter what his conscious mind was trying to do. Spike would lay odds that out of control was a new scenario for the elf. No wonder he was going crazy.

He realised he had the winning hand, and used it. Visualising himself ripping the elf’s clothes off and pounding into him, he felt his cock throb painfully and heard Legolas groan. That was a sound he’d pay money to hear. He grabbed a fistful of blond hair, got an arm round the elf’s middle from behind, and hissed, “I’m going to fuck you senseless,” into a pointed ear.

Legolas yelped and shuddered. Spike took advantage of the fact, hooked a foot round the elf’s leg and tumbled them both to the ground. The elf was still struggling, but he was weakening. He writhed against Spike as the vampire rolled them over and got on top, one arm pinned underneath him. The elf was pushing at him uselessly with the other. 

Spike pressed his cock down onto Legolas’s hip. The elf was rock hard against him. He knew he’d never last long enough to carry out his promise, what with the turmoil in his mind as well.

“Stop!” Legolas made a last attempt.

“Oh come on. I can feel what you want, here,” Spike jerked his head towards the elf’s, “and here.” He shoved his hand down between them and grabbed the elf through his leggings. 

Legolas yelled, and Spike felt the effect of his own touch in his head via their weird connection. What a rush. He didn’t mess about with the fine details, just tugged on a leather tie till it broke so he could get his hand inside Legolas’s clothes. He fumbled around until he got a good grip on the elf’s cock, hot and smooth, then started to move his hand, thrusting against the elf at the same time. 

“You feel it don’t you?” he murmured. “You feel the energy. Being a vampire’s not just about blood and stakes. I can give you something you’ll never get from a human. Not even from another elf.”

He craned his neck to reach the skin of the elf’s throat. Legolas brought the back of his free hand up to protect himself, and the red gash on his arm came into view. That was it. There was no way Spike wasn’t going to have it. He pushed himself up on his elbow and bent his head to lap at the blood.

Jesus, it was incredible. He could taste the elf’s arousal, like hot spice on his tongue. There couldn’t be any holding back. He sealed his lips around the wound and began to suck. 

Legolas was moaning loudly now, one long stream of incomprehensible elvish. He was pushing up repeatedly into Spike’s hand, shifting his hips against Spike’s cock. The friction, combined with the warm blood in his mouth and the mess of sensation flooding into him from the elf, all of it massively, painfully good, was taking him well beyond the limits of control. He was losing it, losing it rapidly. 

And then he could feel Legolas coming, unbelievably hard, and Spike was right there with him, pulling his head back from the elf’s wrist to shout out as he shook with the most devastating orgasm he’d had in at least a century.

“Bloody hell.” Spike rolled off onto his back and stared at the sky. After a while it came into focus. “Bloody frigging hell.” He licked the last trickles of blood from his lips. He’d taken less than a mouthful, but it was enough. It was like cream, too rich to drink it all down in one go.

Legolas got to his knees and attempted to sort out his clothing. He looked down at the vampire with cold eyes. “I should kill you for that,” he said.

“Go ahead. Be my guest.” Spike yanked up his T-shirt, exposing his hairless, well-muscled chest completely. If he went now, he’d go smiling.

The elf stared at him, his gaze wandering up and down. Spike grinned. Maybe not all that lust had come from him, after all. 

“Can’t do it, can you?” he said. “Never mind. Better admit it wasn’t all that bad.”

“It would not have happened if I could have stopped it.” 

Spike had the feeling that was a moot point, but he wasn’t about to argue. Even vampires get mellow after good sex.

“Look, relax about it. The world hasn’t ended,” he said.

“If you speak of this to any of them, I will kill you. I can put a wood-tipped arrow through your heart from fifty paces,” the elf responded.

“I don’t doubt it. It’s part of your charm. Besides, I’m not about to say anything. Don’t want the whole world thinking I’m a raving poofter. Anyway, you can’t blame me. All that mind mojo made me crazy too, and it wasn’t my doing.”

Legolas was standing staring into the trees, but his head whipped round at these words and he peered down at Spike suspiciously.

“It was not your doing?” he asked accusingly. “Then what was it?”

“Beats me. Seems to have gone now, whatever it was.”

He got to his feet and scanned the ground for his belongings. Thankfully his cigarettes were intact. He pulled one out, and turned to offer the pack to the elf, who was looking up at the sky. Quite why he hadn’t run off yet, Spike wasn’t sure. A moment later he heard the helicopter and understood. 

“The bastards are on their way,” he said. “No, wait!”

Legolas hesitated for a second at the edge of the trees.

“Are you going to risk leading them back to the house?” the vampire said quickly. “Better come with me – the graveyard’s so full of weird stuff they don’t use their trackers there. Besides, got a few spells of my own. You’ll be safe.”

The elf looked unconvinced. Spike decided it was time for a bit of reverse psychology and set off at a run for the cemetery gates. It wasn’t long before he sensed that Legolas was following.

Once inside the crypt, Legolas looked around with obvious disapproval while Spike kicked the door shut and bolted it. 

“This is hardly secure,” the elf said. “I should have gone into the forest.”

“Ten to one they’d have tracked you down, and it wouldn’t have been pretty.” Spike sat down on the big stone coffin and fished in his pocket for his lighter. “You’re better off risking it here with me. We could have another go if you like, with a clear head this time.” 

It was far too easy. The elf spun round and looked daggers at him. “You will never touch me again,” he said angrily.

“OK, OK, just a joke. You really need to calm down. Smoke?” He held the pack out. Their eyes locked.

“No, pipeweed does not agree with me,” Legolas said stiffly, after a long pause.

“Doesn’t it? Well, this might.” He rummaged in the grocery bag and found the whisky.

The elf made no move to take the bottle from his outstretched hand. Spike sighed. All that rich red goodness must have gone to his head. Why else would he suddenly feel the need to see Legolas smile?

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” he offered. “You spend all your time with the humans being pure and good and self controlled, but you’re also wild and passionate and immortal. You’ve seen stuff they couldn’t even imagine. How else can you deal with it? You can’t show it to them, they’d never cope. Isn’t it a relief to be around someone who isn’t in awe of you? I might be evil to the core, but I do understand all that.”

“There is some good in you yet,” said the elf suddenly.

“Don’t spread that around, or I’ll have to kill you.”

To the vampire’s delight, the elf threw back his head and laughed, then crossed to the stone slab and sat, not too close, admittedly, but near enough to reach for the whisky.

“Help yourself,” said Spike. 

Legolas removed the cap and took a healthy swig from the bottle before handing it back. “I thank you,” he said. 

“No problem.” Spike took a mouthful himself. It was a shame to lose the taste of elf blood, but he wasn’t about to let Legolas hit the whisky alone. “Now, are you going to tell me about it? Who is he?”

“Who is..?” said the elf, puzzled.

“This bloke that’s bringing on all the guilt feelings. I got those, you know. No idea how, but they were there. So go on, who is he? Or are you going to tell me it’s a woman?”

Legolas shook his head and reached for the bottle again. “I do not understand how it has come to pass that I should even consider unburdening my soul to a vampire,” he said. “This world has made me strange indeed.”

“This world is bloody strange indeed. No point fighting that. So go on. I know a bit about love, I can tell you,” Spike said despondently, thinking of Drusilla.

Legolas stared into the gloom and pulled his feet up to sit cross-legged. He swallowed another measure of whisky and passed the bottle back to Spike. This time he didn’t snatch his hand away quite so fast. “There is no woman,” he said quietly.

“So what is he then, a man or an elf?”

“Ah, well, the matter is a little more complex than that.”

Spike lit his cigarette and took a long draw. He blew out a smoke ring and sent a second one through it. So there was a story? That was hardly a surprise. “Well go on then. We’ve got all night,” he said.


	9. Chapter 9

“This seems like a nice neighbourhood,” said Miranda approvingly as Giles turned the car into his street. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

“You could have stayed here, you know. There’s plenty of room.” He pulled the car to a halt outside the house and turned to look at his visitor. 

She smiled. “Well, thank you, dear. But you know Raymond and the children would never forgive me if I didn’t look them up while I’m in town. Sheila’s cooking something special tonight. You’ll be wanting your last night alone with your guest, anyhow.” She leaned across and tapped him on the arm to emphasise the latter point, adding a wink for good measure.

It suddenly seemed extremely warm in the car. “Have you been reading me?” Giles asked suspiciously.

“Now, Rupert, you know I wouldn’t dream of using the Powers on you. Besides, I don’t need to. Any woman with half an ounce of intelligence would have worked it out within a mile of the airport. You should hear yourself!”

He groaned and shook his head, hanging on to the steering wheel with both hands. “Am I so bad? Really?” He’d known Miranda far too long to beat about the bush or attempt denials.

“Well, you wouldn’t win any prizes for keeping secrets, but it isn’t necessarily a bad thing. If this elf is half of what you say he is, it’s quite understandable that you should want him to stay.” She lowered her voice and spoke gently. “You do know that it’s right for him to go, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I’ll just have to get over it.”

“That’s it, the famous British stiff upper lip.” She smiled again and placed a hand over his. “Now, let’s get going. I’m just dying to meet him.”

By some accident of timing, Xander and Willow appeared around the corner as Giles was lifting Miranda’s bag out of the boot. He straightened to perform the introductions.

Willow shook Miranda’s hand nervously and managed a welcome in a high-pitched voice. The older woman gave no hint of anything more than a friendly greeting, but Giles wasn’t fooled. No doubt she’d learned a great deal about the young witch through that first brief contact.

Xander, meanwhile, was polite enough. The sceptical expression on his face made it clear he was having difficulty reconciling the physical presence of Miranda with her awesome reputation. Giles had seen many a demon fall into the same trap, fooled by the pink velour leisure suits and the carefully waved grey hair with the faintest tinge of blue. For many of them, their disbelieving scorn had been the last thought they would ever have in this world.

Xander hoisted the bag and Giles got out his key, but the door was opened before he could get there. 

He’d been away from the house for less than two hours, but the sight of Legolas standing in the doorway still came as a shock. The elf, dressed in simple modern clothes but with his hair pulled back in the tiny plaits he favoured, was quite uncannily beautiful. Giles felt something inside him lurch painfully.

Miranda was clearly impressed. Her eyes had grown huge. “Oh my,” she said in her rich southern tones. “Aren’t you just… adorable!”

It struck Giles as deeply unfair that women of a certain age could get away with saying such things. Legolas certainly didn’t seem to be offended, nor was he distracted by Miranda’s appearance. He had bowed his head humbly and placed a hand over his heart.

“My Lady,” he said, “I am most honoured.”

“Oh my dear, you must call me Miranda. And the honour is mine, believe me.” 

Elf and sorcerer regarded each other for a moment, both faces slowly developing enormous smiles. They seemed to be indulging in some sort of communication that didn’t require spoken words. Legolas extended his arm and Miranda moved forward to take hold of it, then they stepped in through the door still gazing at each other. 

Xander made a poor attempt to suppress an incredulous snort and Giles glared at him, although he could have admitted to feeling somewhat disgruntled himself. 

“Well, come on then,” he said irritably. “We can’t stand out here all day.”

They trooped into the house and Giles pulled the door shut.

By the time he brought the tea tray through into the lounge, Miranda and Legolas had finished their silent conversation. The elf was sitting back in his chair and watching intently as Miranda quizzed Xander and Willow about their exploits with their closest friend.

“I do hope Buffy will be calling by later, dear,” she said as Giles handed her a mug. “I can’t remember how many years it is since I met a Slayer.”

“Oh she’ll be here,” Willow chipped in. “She just had some Riley-type things to do first.”

“It amazes me that she manages to find time for friends, boyfriend and college on top of all the slaying,” Miranda commented as she stirred sugar into her tea. “She must be quite unlike the others.”

“She certainly is,” Giles responded with pride. “As a Slayer, well, as an individual really, she’s in a league of her own.”

They chatted on for a while over the tea and biscuits. Legolas spoke only when addressed directly, and his eyes rarely strayed from Miranda. She seemed perfectly at ease being the centre of everyone’s attention and kept the conversation rolling along at a merry pace. Giles wondered if Willow and Xander had any idea how much they were revealing about themselves in response to her lively questioning. He very much doubted it. Miranda would still be utterly formidable, even without her supernatural powers.

When the pot was empty and a natural lull in the proceedings reached, Miranda pushed back her chair. 

“Well now,” she said. “Y’all will forgive me if I whisk your lovely elf away for a while? We have a lot of talking to do, and I figure it might be pleasant to do it outdoors on a day like this. What do you think, Honey?”

“I think it is an excellent idea,” replied Legolas gravely.

A few minutes later Giles watched them set off down the street together. Miranda had her arm linked through Legolas’s, for all the world like a doting grandmother taking a stroll with her favourite grandson. The image made him grin, but he still felt a faint whisper of jealousy in his head. He’d give anything to be party to that conversation. Miranda would have no scruples about wading straight in and uncovering a few of the elf’s mysteries, of that he was quite sure. He sighed and shut the door.

Xander and Willow didn’t seem particularly keen to stay now that the main source of entertainment had left. They were already getting their things together.

“We’ll come by later this afternoon,” said Xander, “and bring Buffy. Anya, too, if she’s back by then.”

“But Giles, what about tonight?” Willow asked. “Buffy and I have a dorm party that we were all planning to go to, but maybe we should blow it off and do something for Legolas instead?”

What about tonight, indeed? Giles had been trying desperately not to think of it for days. Before he could formulate an appropriate response, Xander unexpectedly stepped in and rescued him. 

“No, Will, I think one night at the Bronze was probably enough for our elf. I bet Giles has something suitably intellectual cooked up for tonight, anyway. We should go to the dorm party and leave them to it. There’ll be time in the morning for the final farewells.”

Willow looked at Giles questioningly as he stuttered something inane in approval of this plan. The youngsters said goodbye and set off down the street, leaving him to wonder if Xander had really winked at him, or if the events of the past fortnight had finally gone to his head.

Later in the day the whole Scooby gang arrived at the house to find Giles still waiting on his own. It hadn’t been an easy afternoon for him and he’d resorted to housework in an attempt to calm himself down, so at least the place was gleaming. Nobody noticed, of course; they were too busy settling in the lounge, attacking the biscuit tin and trading light-hearted banter. Mercifully it wasn’t long before the elf and the sorceress returned.

Giles knew better than to ask where they’d been, although he was itching to know. All Miranda would volunteer was that it had been a most pleasant time, and quite illuminating. Legolas, however, seemed changed, almost glowing. He wasn’t exactly voluble, but the cautious reticence that Giles had noticed over the last couple of days was gone. For some reason which he really didn’t want to explore, the elf’s happy serenity made Giles feel distinctly miserable.

He busied himself in and out of the kitchen while the others joked and told tales. Miranda was clearly delighted with Buffy, and even Anya seemed relaxed in her presence. Giles knew he was being churlish, but he found the general atmosphere of jollity almost unbearable. It was quite a relief when Miranda’s nephew turned up to drive her off across town and the rest of them took it as their cue to leave. 

Of course, that still left the problem of getting through the evening without making too great a fool of himself.

“We could go out for dinner,” he suggested, almost afraid to look Legolas in the eye. The elf was gazing at him calmly with that odd listening expression that always made Giles wonder if he was mind-reading. “There are one or two fairly good restaurants in town. I could phone and see about a table.”

“Have we not had enough company for today?” Legolas responded gently. “Unless it is important to you that we venture out, I think I would prefer to spend the evening here with you.”

Oh Lord, if he only knew. “Fine, that - that’s fine,” Giles stammered. “In that case, I’d better nip out for some food, and a couple of bottles of decent wine.”

“An excellent idea.” Legolas smiled, the strange light in his eyes unfathomable. “And I should like to come with you.”

*************

“Rupert, is it your intention to slay me with delight?” The elf spoke breathily. “If such is the case, you are close to achieving your aim.”

Giles stared at the elf’s ecstatic expression, the closed eyes and moistly parted lips. If he had ever before wanted anything as badly as he wanted Legolas right now, he couldn’t recall it. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“I thought I had known pleasure, my friend, but this?” The blue eyes opened and gazed back at him dreamily, as the elf slowly ran his tongue across his lips. 

Aware of the flush threatening to burn up his face, Giles cleared his throat and struggled to find his voice. “You haven’t yet tried the maple and pecan,” he said.

“Ah, there is more?” Legolas sighed dramatically. “First the salmon, and now… this.” He pushed his bowl across the table with a heart-stopping smile and watched eagerly as Giles scooped more ice cream into it. “If you succeed in killing me with it, I shall die the happiest of elves.”

Giles sipped his wine as he drank in the sight of Legolas savouring every mouthful of the dessert, licking it slowly from the spoon and pausing before each morsel as if to memorise the taste of the previous one. Could it be that the elf genuinely didn’t realise what a picture he made as he gave himself over to such sensual enjoyment? Perhaps he had no idea that Giles was finding the entire performance devastatingly erotic. He could hardly believe that his six hundred and something year old companion could be so naïve, and yet if he did know what he was doing, why should he choose to tease so unfairly? His rich sense of humour had revealed no streak of cruelty until now.

Once dinner was over and the last pots placed in the dishwasher, Giles ran a cloth over the kitchen surfaces before going through to the lounge. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say a dozen times.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the meal,” he said, feeling inexplicably nervous. “I wanted to do something rather special for you on, er, your last night.” Good God, was that the best he could do? He sounded like a moonstruck teenager.

“You have already done more than enough for me,” said Legolas softly. He rose smoothly from his chair and crossed the room towards Giles, coming close enough for the man to notice his scent, the sweet green freshness of him. 

“No, really,” Giles stuttered, fumbling in his pocket for a handkerchief as he pulled his glasses off for polishing. 

Legolas’s hand suddenly reached forward and stilled his before he could apply cloth to lens. As the elf gently took his glasses from him and placed them on top of the bookshelf, Giles stood rigid, listening to the frantic pulse in his ears.

“I could never thank you enough for your generosity,” said Legolas, “and yet there is one more thing I would ask of you.” 

“Which is…?” he managed to croak.

“Only this.”

Long fingers closed around his wrist and pushed his arm to the side, allowing Legolas to move closer. Before Giles had the chance to react, the elf was kissing him, not chastely as a friend might do, but with a lover’s passion.

Giles was so astounded that a while passed before he thought to part his lips in response to the elf’s insistent pressure. Immediately, Legolas slipped his tongue between them and Giles tasted him, the sweetness of the wine and the ice cream, but behind it that same strange green flavour. He realised that the elf still held his wrist, while the other hand cradled his head, keeping him firmly in place as his mouth was slowly, thoroughly explored, although why the elf imagined that he would want to pull away was a mystery. His knees were literally weak with the pleasure of it all and his heart was skittering painfully. By the time the elf released him, he felt that he was mere moments away from orgasm.

Legolas stepped back a little, although he kept a hold of Giles’s arm. There was an intense, questioning look on his face.

“Only that?” Giles gasped, once he’d regained the ability to breathe.

“That is all I would ask of you, my friend,” replied Legolas. “Any more must be at your behest, not mine.”

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” The words were out suddenly, before he could stop and think.

“Actually, yes, I do.” The elf spoke quietly, carefully. “I have tried to respect your privacy, but sometimes when an emotion is so powerful, I cannot shut it out. It has not left me… unaffected.”

That would explain it. His mind was a seething mass of half-baked thoughts, but uppermost was the question: why should an astonishing creature like Legolas want to kiss him, a nondescript and bookish man, long past his best? If the elf was being drawn to him simply because of his own longings… it was an intolerable thought.

“I’m sorry, Legolas. Really very sorry.” Giles shook his head, looking at the floor.

“Why sorry, Rupert? You have done nothing wrong. Why should your feelings shame you?”

“I should be able to control myself. I didn’t realise I was dragging you into it.” 

“Oh! Forgive me, I have expressed myself badly.” The elf’s eyes widened in comprehension. “You think that I am merely responding to your desires, not acting on my own.”

“Well, you could hardly be expected to… ”

“To feel desire for you, my friend?” Giles felt something strange happen in his belly as the elf moved closer again and raised a hand to stroke his cheek, very lightly. “You think too little of yourself.”

“I’m a realist,” he managed, closing his eyes.

“Ah, but perhaps you misjudge me. How should I not be attracted to your maturity and wisdom, your experience, your generous soul? And it must be said,” the elf brushed a finger teasingly across Giles’s mouth as he spoke, “that as a man, you are finely made.”

The touch of laughter in the elf’s voice was enough to overcome Giles’s doubts, or at least to make them irrelevant. Without pausing to question it, he brought his hand up to the elf’s neck, burrowing beneath his hair – every bit as soft as it looked – to pull Legolas towards him.

This time Giles was the one doing the kissing, although the elf was not slow to respond. Their tongues pushed against each other playfully for a while before Legolas pulled back, as if inviting the man to enter his mouth. It was not a kiss he could have grown tired of; only the need for oxygen brought it to a halt. 

They stood staring at each other while Giles tried to calm down a little. The way his heart was racing couldn’t possibly be healthy, not at his age.

“So, do you wish for more?” Legolas finally asked, smiling. “Under the circumstances, it would be understandable if you felt that restraint was advisable.”

“What do you want me to say? I think you’re well aware of my feelings on the issue, but I still find it incredible that you should want the same, that you aren’t just being kind… Oh, God…”

Words failed him completely as the elf, his smile now more of a wicked grin, slid a hand down his back and guided him forward into rather closer contact than before. There were some things a man couldn’t fake, and unless elves were built very differently from humans it was perfectly obvious that Legolas was not merely playing along. His physique, it would seem, was splendid in every respect.

“Now do you realise that my desire is genuine?” The elf spoke close to his ear, whilst shifting his hips from side to side in a rhythm that threatened to push Giles over the edge in a matter of seconds. 

“Yes, yes indeed, but please, you need to stop doing that.”

“Mmm, a shame, as it is most… pleasurable,” Legolas murmured, but he drew back as requested, and his face grew serious. “My friend, forgive me if I have been excessively forward. I knew that you would never ask for what you wanted, and feared that you would reject any offer made solely in words. I have no wish to cause you discomfort, believe me.”

“It’s not a matter of discomfort, just astonishment,” replied Giles dryly. 

They gazed at each other for a moment, during which Giles mentally shook himself and managed to get some clarity into his thoughts. This was literally a once in a lifetime occurrence. To hell with the repercussions.

“Shall we go upstairs?” he suggested.

Legolas smiled and crossed the room to the table. “I shall bring the wine.”

I might need it yet, thought Giles, but he kept the notion to himself.

He glanced around the bedroom as Legolas set the bottle and glasses down on the small cupboard. How many lonely nights had he spent in this bed? He’d bought a new one, of course, after Jenny… the only person to have shared this one with him was Olivia, a few weeks ago although it seemed like half a lifetime. Thinking of Olivia gave him some courage. He could almost hear her speaking from behind him, ‘Get on with it, Ripper. It’s time you had some fun.’

He sat down on the bed, next to Legolas.

“Why do you laugh?” the elf asked.

“I was thinking of a friend. The last friend to visit me… here.”

“Ah, a special friend. I had not thought that there was anyone…”

“No, it isn’t like that. I’m a free agent, I assure you.” The elf had raised the subject, so he felt able to ask the question. “But what about you? Do you not have, er, prior commitments?”

Legolas sighed and reached for the wine bottle. He poured a glass and handed it to Giles before refilling his own. “Yes, there is someone. He waits for me.”

“Then are you sure that we should be considering…”

The elf stared into his wine before turning back to Giles. “Rupert, this time in your world has changed me, has made me aware of aspects of myself that I had never thought to see. These revelations disturbed me greatly, until I spoke with Miranda today and she allayed some of my fears. She is uncommonly wise, and not only in matters of sorcery.”

“She is indeed,” Giles agreed, taking a swig of the wine. What was it that had unsettled Legolas so badly? What could Miranda have said to him? He’d probably never know.

“Perhaps I should feel guilty for wanting to share some pleasure with you, my friend, but try as I might I cannot. Tomorrow I shall be gone, either back to my own world, or perhaps to some other place and time that cannot be predicted. Miranda has made that risk quite clear to me. In either case, what is certain is that all knowledge of this time will be obliterated from my mind. Can you imagine what that means to me, Rupert? For once in my infinity of days I would follow my instincts, without giving thought to an eternity of consequence.”

Giles blinked the moisture from his eyes. “I wish I could make you happy,” he said unthinkingly, “if only for an instant.”

Legolas smiled at him, a smile to melt the soul. “Then let us not discuss it overmuch,” he said. “This is no time for melancholy.” 

“No, you are quite right.” Giles reached down to put his glass on the floor before turning back to the elf’s waiting lips.

It was only when the long fingers moved to the front of his shirt that he suffered a flash of panic. What on earth must Legolas, with his centuries of experience, be expecting?

“I don’t, I mean I haven’t really...” he began.

“This is not an area in which expertise is necessary,” said the elf reassuringly, swirling his fingertips in the hair exposed by the opened buttons. “You would make me happy if you were to lie back and simply take what I have to give.”

“Oh God,” he gasped, yet again, as Legolas conquered the final fastening and pulled the shirt open, dipping his head to attend to Giles’s chest with his lips and tongue. “Oh…”

By the time the elf pulled off the last of his clothing, Giles was beyond caring whether what he was doing was right, appropriate, or good enough. He was reduced to moaning like a mindless idiot, and occasionally reaching out to touch some part of Legolas, a handful of soft hair, a strongly muscled forearm, a smooth cheek…

“Are you going to get undressed? I would very much like to look at you,” he managed to get out in a more lucid moment.

“As you wish.” Legolas bent to kiss him briefly before sliding off the bed. The T shirt came off in one swift movement, revealing the elf’s perfectly smooth, pale chest. Then the jeans, and…

“Oh dear God,” Giles groaned. “You are… you are magnificent.”

“And you are quite irresistible,” Legolas replied, straddling Giles on the bed and lowering himself slowly down, bringing their bodies into agonisingly stimulating contact. 

Giles ran both hands down the elf’s back and grasped his firm, rounded buttocks. Legolas was moving against him, one hot, hard penis against the other, and it felt so incredibly good he thought he might pass out.

“I won’t last if you keep doing… oh!”

“No matter,” the elf chuckled, so close that it felt like a growl in his ear, a shiveringly seductive sound. “Why worry if the first time is over quickly? The second will be less hasty, and the third,” he flexed his hips hard, making Giles gasp, “will be positively languorous.”

It was just too much. He dug his fingers into the elf’s flesh and let out an incoherent scream. He felt the hot breath on his ear and heard the low whisper, “Yes, Rupert, yes!” as he came, pulse after pulse and nothing but white behind his eyelids. 

He’d thought it couldn’t get any better, until Legolas rolled off him and got to his knees so he could lean down and lick the sticky fluid off Giles’s chest. Even his groin managed a last spasm of pleasure at the sight.

“What about you?” he gasped, writhing under the elf’s tongue. “You’re encouraging me to be selfish and you haven’t…”

Legolas grinned at him as he slid down the bed to lie at Giles’s side. He reached for the man’s hand and guided it down over his hard, flat belly towards the spectacular equipment at its base. 

“I do not perceive it to be a problem.” Legolas paused to sigh and blink as Giles massaged his balls – strangely smooth and hairless, like all the rest of him. “As the night is yet young.”

Giles wrapped his hand around the elf’s penis and began to stroke, gently at first, but with gradually increasing pressure and speed. He watched every twitch, every flutter of the elf’s response and heard with growing satisfaction the unsteady breathing, the gasps and the moans. 

He felt his own face breaking into an evil smile as he slowed down the pace and drew a definite cry from the elf by moving his thumb in leisurely, dragging circles. Legolas was right. The night was yet young, and he’d be damned if he was going to waste any of it on sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Somebody had stuck his eyelids together with superglue during the night, and his mouth felt as if he’d swallowed a bucket of dirty sand. It couldn’t possibly be morning. He was lying on his side, one arm scrunched uncomfortably beneath him and the other flung forward. The bed felt very warm and something seemed to be pinning him down across his waist…

Giles ripped his eyes open, a wave of excitement passing through him as he recalled the details of the night. It was followed almost at once by an overwhelming sadness as he realised what today was. He stared at the wall, grey in the early light, trying to get his thoughts in order.

“Mmm, Rupert, you are awake at last.” He shivered despite the heat as Legolas nuzzled into his neck.

“Have I been asleep for long?” His voice sounded nearly as rough as he felt.

“Some two hours only. Long enough, by my estimation.” He could practically hear the elf’s smile.

“How late is it?” 

“Not far beyond dawn. We still have a little time.” Legolas shifted the arm that had been lying protectively across Giles’s middle, brought his hand up to the man’s chest. The elf’s fingers danced deliberately from one nipple to the other and Giles gasped at the electrifying touch. He was to be allowed no morning-after doubts, then.

In spite of his weariness and the unprecedented events of the past twelve hours, Giles could feel his heart thumping as the elf’s teeth teased along his ear. He was painfully hard within moments. Rolling back on his hip to press against Legolas’s body he discovered that he was not the only one in such a state. The elf had stamina, it had to be said. In his own case, it would be more accurate to say that he simply didn’t stand a chance. Legolas could do whatever he wanted with him; he’d be quite unable to resist.

He’d been very relieved last night when the elf had made clear to him the limitations on their activity. Anal sex had never struck him as a pleasant prospect, and he considered himself far too old to be trying it for the first time. But as he rocked against Legolas now, feeling the long, smooth penis nestling tantalisingly between his buttocks, he realised that should Legolas desire it, he’d agree without protest. Part of him even craved to know what it would feel like to be so thoroughly possessed by the elf. He went weak at the thought, and cried out when Legolas, no doubt sensing his lust, ceased stroking his chest and moved his attentions somewhat lower.

There the elf’s hand worked unerringly, drawing from Giles a response that was astonishing in its speed and intensity. The bizarre thought crossed the man’s mind that if there were more elves in this world, Viagra would soon become redundant. He leaned into the warmth behind him as he rapidly approached his orgasm, unable to do much in return for the elf’s skill but groan his pleasure loudly.

Suddenly Legolas stopped moving and the warm breath in Giles’s ear returned. “No, not like this. I wish rather to taste you again.”

Giles shuddered, very near to coming at the sound of the words themselves. He heard Legolas slide across the bed and felt the elf’s fingers on his hip, rolling him over onto his back. 

“Good morning, lover,” Legolas said softly, pushing Giles’s thighs apart with firm hands.

Giles watched mesmerised as Legolas, kneeling between his parted legs, tucked the golden hair behind his ears before dipping his head. Every bit as beautiful as this erotic sight was the sensation of the elf’s mouth slowly engulfing him. It astonished him that Legolas seemed able to take his whole length in without hesitation, but what amazed him more was the way the elf kept him hovering on the brink for an eternity by some devilish combination of fingerwork and timing. It was the most extreme, unbearable pleasure he’d ever known, and by the time he was finally allowed to come his screams must have woken the neighbours. He was certainly begging at the end, but there could be no telling what language he was trying to speak.

Legolas licked his lips slowly as he sat back on his heels. Unbelievably, Giles felt his penis twitch in response, exhausted and spent as he was. 

“Get over here,” he rasped, “and let me touch you.”

The elf grinned at him but did not move. “Our exertions have left me somewhat less than fresh. It occurs to me that I should take a shower,” he said. “Would it please you to join me?”

Giles had been tormented by fantasies of the long, lean body exposed to the powerful water jets, ever since Legolas had expressed his enthusiasm after taking his first shower. He’d tried hard not to picture elegant hands lathering soap over supple skin while the rivulets found their way into every crease and crevice. Unsurprisingly, he had not been entirely successful.

“Let’s go,” he said, rolling off the bed and onto his feet.

Legolas liked the water hot, the jets set to maximum pressure. Giles held the shower head and ran the stream across his lover’s back, fascinated by the ripple of muscle and sinew as the elf wriggled his shoulders and sighed delightedly. 

“Ah, that is good.” 

“Yes,” Giles agreed fervently. He reached around the elf and hooked the shower head back into its fitting, adjusting it to send a finer, more diffuse spray onto Legolas’s chest. His hands freed, he picked up the soap and began to work up a rich lather. 

The elf’s skin was still flawless even up close in the confines of the shower stall; smoothly resilient under his slippery fingers, it appeared almost luminescent in the bright surroundings. He ran his palms flat up and down the elf’s back a few times, feeling the lithe body flex and twist under his touch, then brought them lower to cup and knead the perfectly sculpted buttocks.

Legolas murmured his appreciation as he stood with arms braced against the wall on either side of the shower fitting, trickles of water flowing down his long back. Giles moved closer as he replenished the soap between his hands, letting the elf’s rump rub against his re-awakening erection as he stroked down the front of the strong thighs and up over prominent hip bones and taut belly to the elf’s chest. 

As Giles crossed his arms around the elf and brought his hands up to play with the tightened nipples, Legolas became increasingly vocal. There was water everywhere; Giles, pressed up snugly against his lover, his face half buried in sodden blond hair, had to turn his head to avoid inhaling it, but he had no intention of letting go. The long musical moans coming from the elf were just too erotic, and the feel of Legolas’s warm wet body against his, sliding and slipping in his embrace, was acutely enjoyable. 

“Turn around, like this,” Giles said, easing back after a while. “I want to see your face.”

They manoeuvred round carefully in the limited space until Legolas stood side-on to the shower, the water cascading over one shoulder and running provocatively down both front and back. Giles stood on the other side, feet braced apart, one hand circling on the elf’s buttocks, the other on his belly. He shifted a bit closer and squirmed a little for the sheer pleasure of rubbing himself against the elf’s hip, before getting on with the matter in hand. 

He had none of Legolas’s skill in prolonging the process, but then that wasn’t really his aim. He wanted to see the elf letting go, dropping the mask and showing only the wild, sensual delight. The faster it happened, the more powerfully exciting it was. 

Legolas didn’t disappoint. Before long he had his head thrown back, water streaming off his glistening skin as he pushed first back against the firm hand at his rear then forward into the fingers teasing and stroking him. 

“Ai, Rupert, you undo me,” he cried out, adding something in Sindarin that Giles couldn’t translate. The general meaning was clear enough, however. The next cry was a wordless expression of bliss as the elf came spectacularly, his face contorted, his body arched and frozen in its tension as the spasms passed through him.

“That is beyond doubt the most beautiful thing I will ever see,” Giles said, taking Legolas in his arms as the magnificent body relaxed. 

The elf turned to kiss him, laughing at the water trickling into their mouths as their tongues met. Giles became aware that the hands which had met loosely around his waist were now stroking him with a more definite purpose. Soon after he found himself held firmly with his back against the damp tiled wall. The deep blue eyes, with their fringes of thick, dark lashes, were gazing into his own at close range and the elf’s face held an expression of pure mischief that made his stomach turn over. 

Legolas ran his knuckles down the man’s chest. “Now I think it is time for me to wash you, as thoroughly as you have washed me,” he said slyly.

Giles groaned and shut his eyes as the agile fingers began their work.

 

********************

While he was cooking breakfast the sexual reverberations subsided sufficiently for the melancholy to catch up with him. He stared into the pan, listlessly pushing the bacon and mushrooms around with a spatula as he tried to get a grip on himself. They’d all be here this morning; he couldn’t afford to let himself fall apart.

Legolas walked into the kitchen, dressed in his elven garb, a neat pile of laundry in his arms. He smiled at Giles as he crossed the room to place the clothes on top of the washing machine. The finality of it brought tears to Giles’s eyes and he turned back to the stove.

Silently the elf came to stand behind him, bringing his arms around the man’s middle and resting his chin on a shoulder.

“Ah, mushrooms. You spoil me,” Legolas said gently.

No; I love you. It would be easy enough to say the words, but what could it possibly accomplish at this stage? He swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“Well, the least I can do is send you off with a good meal inside you.” He sounded like his mother, for God’s sake.

“You are sending me off with far more than that.” The elf kissed his neck very softly before drawing away and moving to lean against the counter so he could look Giles in the eye. 

“They will know… that something has happened,” Giles said suddenly, and for no apparent reason.

One eyebrow raised in a steep arch. “This presents a problem for you?”

“Well, actually…” he thought for a moment. “No, I suppose it doesn’t matter. What about you?”

“Me?” Legolas laughed. “I care not. I am proud to have known you, my friend. Let others think what they will; I can only thank you.”

“Thank me?” repeated Giles incredulously.

“Yes, Rupert, I thank you. For helping me to remember that the sharing of pleasure in the spirit of love is a good thing, a means of celebrating the miracle of creation. I have… I had lost my way a little in recent times, and you have helped me to regain my path. I cannot believe that some small corner of my soul will not hold on to the memory.” The elf’s smile was serious and his eyes betrayed the depth of his sentiment.

Giles stood speechless, the tears welling in his eyes again. Somewhere in the intensity of the moment he reached a decision, and after pushing the pan off the heat he moved closer to Legolas, placed a hand on his arm.

“I love you, Legolas. I want you to know that,” he said simply. 

The elf nodded, his face sad. “You are such a fine man, Rupert. I am so sorry that I must leave just as we begin to know each other. I hope you understand that if it was my fate to stay in your world, this would not be a single night of pleasure for us.”

Giles had no answer, so he brought his other hand to Legolas’s neck and drew him close for a long, sensuous kiss. It was deep and thorough but somehow chaste; the last kiss they would share. He had to close his eyes as they pulled apart, afraid that he’d go to pieces if he saw sorrow in the elf’s eyes.

“I’d better get on with the breakfast,” he said at last, his voice unsteady. “or the bacon will be ruined.” 

“I shall prepare the table,” Legolas answered gently. “Shall I set a third place? I sense that Miranda is soon to join us.”

********************

By ten thirty the whole gang had assembled, but there was little of the laughter and silliness of their usual meetings. Legolas sat and talked quietly with the youngsters while Giles helped Miranda. Under her careful guidance he prepared the symbols, mixed the powders and lit the flame. They were checking over their handiwork for the final time when the noise came at the door. Giles knew at once what it would be.

“Spike! What on earth do you think you are doing here?” He marched to the door, ready to kick the vampire out once and for all. It really was time to remake the spell that would deny Spike entry to the house.

“Came to see the show, didn’t I?” said Spike defiantly. “Wanted to make sure old Blondie here is genuinely going home.” 

Giles was about to ask how the hell the vampire knew what was due to happen this morning, when he felt Legolas’s hand on his arm.

“If you would not mind, Rupert, it seems fitting that he should stay,” the elf said calmly.

He failed to see why, but he wasn’t about to argue with Legolas. “Alright, you can stay, but I warn you - if you try anything…”

“He won’t,” said Miranda cheerfully, “Or he’ll have me to deal with.”

Spike stared at the elderly witch and raised his eyebrows. His defiance seemed to evaporate in the warmth of her smile. “Right you are,” he said, and edged around to lean on the kitchen doorframe, not too close to the others. 

“Now, Legolas, I think it’s time you said your farewells. We need to do the ritual soon or the Powers will start to wane.” Miranda took her place at the edge of the large chalked circle.

Everyone stood up and moved to the end of the room, the youngsters looking at each other as if unsure what to do next. Legolas, with his usual air of calm certainty, approached Xander first.

“Farewell, Xander, my friend,” he said, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I am happy to have met you. I once complained to Rupert that you were no warrior to be fighting at Buffy’s side; I know now that I was wrong. You have an exceptional spirit, and she is lucky to have you as a comrade.”

“Aw, Legolas.” Xander appeared to be blushing. “You’ve already saved my life twice, now you’re trying to make me cry? Enough, man.” He stepped forward and the two of them hugged briefly.

Legolas turned to Anya.

“Farewell, Ancient One,” he said, with a smile. “Perhaps it is time that you let go of your anxieties. To be a human amongst companions such as these is not a curse, but a blessing.”

Anya stared at him, then smiled in return. “I know, Legolas, and thank you,” she said with uncharacteristic grace. “I wish you well in your own world.” The elf bent his head and she kissed his cheek briefly.

Willow was nervously shifting from foot to foot as Legolas moved on to her. “I’m still sorry for all this,” she said, flushing, “but really I’m not. It has been so wonderful meeting you and I’ll be honest, I wish you didn’t have to go back.” 

“I know, Willow, and part of me wishes it too,” the elf said gravely. “Although it was a dangerous game that brought me here, I cannot but thank you for it. These two weeks have been precious, and I thank you also for all you have taught me.” He raised a hand to her cheek and then allowed himself a small grin. “And for the pleasure of dancing with you,” he added.

Willow’s face was scarlet. “Namárië, Legolas,” she said shyly. 

“Namárië Tathar, mellon-nîn,” Legolas replied softly, and bent to kiss her forehead.

When Legolas stood before Buffy and the two exchanged a long serious look, Giles felt a shiver run down his spine. For a moment the Slayer’s supernatural powers were quite apparent, and she and the elf seemed like two of a kind. 

“Farewell then, Slayer,” Legolas said, placing a hand over his heart and bowing his head briefly. “I am honoured to have fought by your side. Yours is a terrible calling and you have naught but my admiration. If my fate did not call me home, it would be my privilege to remain here and aid you in your endeavours.”

“I wish you could, really, Legolas.” This time it was Buffy who raised a hand to the other warrior’s shoulder. “It would be so cool to fight with you. But you have to go with your heart, always, and that means home, doesn’t it?” They stared at each other again, and Giles had to look away from the elf’s expression to avoid losing his composure.

Spike was next. Legolas went to stand before him in the doorway and regarded him for a long while. This time there was no distaste on his face; in fact Giles was fairly sure that he was working hard to stop one corner of his mouth turning upwards. For once Spike had dropped his insouciant smirk and was staring back intently.

“I have nothing to say to you, Spike, for fear of your murderous response,” said the elf levelly, raising an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. “Yet I think you know the words in my mind.”

“Yeah, well, I could say the same to you.” Spike produced a grin that for once seemed to hold no malice. 

The two immortals gazed at each other again, and Giles felt a frown creasing his face. What in heaven’s name was going on? 

“Now bugger off, will you?” said the vampire at last, his voice decidedly gruff. “You’ve got things you need to get on with back there.” 

“So I have,” said Legolas. To Giles’s astonishment he gave Spike a genuine smile before turning away.

“Miranda, My Lady, I thank you,” the elf said, approaching the sorceress.

“Oh, come here, Honey,” she said, and enveloped him in a hug. Apparently they didn’t need any further words.

At last Legolas stood before Giles, his feelings for once showing clearly on his face. Giles wondered if he could bear it for much longer.

“Rupert, dear friend,” Legolas said softly, “I could never thank you enough, so I shall simply wish you joy and love in your life; you have known enough of pain and sorrow.” 

The elf stepped closer and raised both hands. He held Giles’s face gently as he leaned in to place a brief, sweet kiss on his lips. It was heartbreaking, and perfect, and Giles didn’t care that all the others were watching. His eyes filled with tears and he reached for the elf’s arm as Legolas moved to whisper close to his ear, “Remember for both of us.”

He choked back a sob. “You know I will.”

“It’s time, Honey,” said Miranda gently. 

Legolas pressed his cheek to the man’s, then turned and stepped into the circle. He looked round the room once, finally bringing his gaze back to Giles, who stood biting his lip in an attempt to retain some self control.

“Rupert, dear,” Miranda prompted him. He nodded and picked up the book of spells.

“Now, Legolas, you need to concentrate on home,” the sorceress said. 

Legolas inclined his head. “Farewell, friends,” he said, then closed his eyes and clasped his hands in front of him.

Giles began the chant as Miranda also shut her eyes, stretching her arms out to the sides. 

The tension in the room grew, the weird sensation of magical energy rippling through the air and prickling on the skin. Giles continued chanting, trying not to look up at Legolas; he must get the spell right. As he reached the last line, the words of Power, he felt the sudden shift in the atmosphere. His part in the proceedings complete, he looked up and closed the book.

Miranda was transported, it was clear to see, while Legolas stood exactly as he had done at the beginning, relaxed and introspective. As Giles watched, the flame sprang into life, and the wind started. The powders began to rise from the clay containers at the edge of the circle, and swirled in the air in a rapidly expanding cloud around the elf. 

The sorceress began to speak, words of the old language, in a voice that was not her own. The cloud was thick and bright now, dense enough to obscure the solitary figure at its centre. Giles felt all his body hairs standing on end and heard the ringing in his ears as Miranda reached the climax of the spell. 

All at once the glow in the circle became unbearably bright, and, almost as suddenly, vanished. The wind died away, the strange energy dissipated, and the powders fell back to the ground, scattered in heaps and drifts around the place where Legolas had stood.

The room was deadly quiet for a moment, until Buffy said anxiously, “Giles, Miranda -”

Giles rushed to the sorceress’s side and got an arm around her waist to support her, then half-dragged her across to a chair. Her arms had fallen to her sides but her eyes were still closed. She was clearly far away as yet. 

“Somebody put a kettle on, please,” Giles said. “She’ll be back shortly, but it’s strange at first and a cup of strong sweet tea always helps.”

It was actually a good five minutes before Miranda came round. Just as Giles was beginning to worry in earnest, she opened her eyes and gave him a weak, bleary smile. 

“Rupert, my dear,” she said.

Willow couldn’t see the sorceress’s expression, so she had to ask, “Did it work?”

“Yes, dear, it worked,” Miranda replied, taking the tea from Giles. She took a long drink and sighed contentedly.

“He’s home?” asked Xander. “How can you be sure?”

“Oh yes, he’s home. And I’m sure, because I could feel him. It’s strange; the connection lasted a lot longer than it usually does, but then Legolas is hardly ordinary.” She looked around the room, smiling at them all reassuringly.

“So Legolas is back in Middle Earth.” Giles finally allowed himself to face the reality. 

“Yes, dear.” Miranda took another sip of tea. “And he’s happy. He was… singing.” She looked up at Giles and he saw that her eyes were glistening with moisture. “He has such a beautiful voice.”

For some reason this information was just too much for Giles, the final straw for his fragile emotional balance. 

“You’ll have to excuse me,” he muttered, heading for the stairs. He could hear Miranda speaking soothingly to the others, telling them to leave him be, but he didn’t turn around. He had to get to his room, had to be alone. 

All morning he had held it in, and it had been no easy task. Now it was time to let the tears fall.


	11. Epilogue

“But Willow, is it actually legal?” Giles asked for the second time.

“Well… not exactly… legal, as such, but as long as you’re not making any profit out of it, nobody’s likely to prosecute you. Anyway, you use a pseudonym and hide your trail; nobody needs to know it’s you. That’s the wonder of the Net. And you can hardly have moral issues over copyright when all you’re actually doing is telling the truth.” She smiled at him winningly.

“I really don’t know.” Giles sat back in his chair and passed the pen from hand to hand, contemplating the possibilities. “I still think it’s too good for me to keep it to myself, and Legolas was quite happy for me to share all the information he gave me.”

“What about the Paranormal Society? You could really give some credibility to Thurber’s theory if you submitted a paper there.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t do that.” He shook his head, thinking of the stuffed shirts on that committee. “They’d never accept unsubstantiated eye witness accounts, even from a Society member. The manifestation has to be verified by at least two registered monitors. No, if I’m going to publish anything, I think the Net has to be the way forward.”

“There’s plenty to work on, anyway. Just the story of him being here, let alone all the things he told you. You must have talked for hours.”

“Yes, we certainly did,” Giles replied bleakly.

Willow looked at him, wide-eyed with concern. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said gently. “You still really miss him, don’t you?” Her glance turned to the framed photo on the mantelpiece. Of all the pictures it was Giles’s favourite; the elf’s serene smile more than compensated for his own foolish grin. 

“I miss him,” he said simply.

“Well, writing it up would be good for you… probably,” said Willow, trying hard. 

He smiled at her uncertainty. “It would definitely be good for me.”

“And you don’t want to forget it all, so you need to get on with it.”

“Yes.” Suddenly he knew he had to tell her. “There are the tapes to transcribe as well, but I suppose that could be done later.”

“Tapes? There are tapes?” she squeaked, almost out of her chair. “You didn’t tell us you were making tapes.”

“I didn’t actually know about them until after he’d… gone.” Giles replied. “Xander apparently got him the cassettes and showed him how to work the machine, but he must have made them at night. There are six of them, six lots of ninety minutes.”

He was not about to mention the seventh tape. There wasn’t much on it – Legolas hadn’t had much time to record it on that last morning – but although short, it was astonishing, and most definitely not for sharing. The elf had been gone for less than two weeks, but he had already lost count of the number of times he’d listened to it.

“What’s on them?” Willow asked eagerly.

“All sorts of detail. His childhood in Mirkwood, but mostly things about the post-war situation: Minas Tirith, Ithilien, Dol Amroth… it’s fascinating stuff. There are even some jokes attributed to his friend Meluinen – and I can assure you, Tolkien wouldn’t have believed his ears if he’d heard those.”

“How fabulous,” breathed Willow, saucer-eyed. Bless her! Who else would really understand the value of this gift?

“Have you made copies yet?” she was asking.

“Copies?”

“Yes – Giles, you must copy them! They’re invaluable – what would you do if one of them got damaged?”

“Good God, I hadn’t even thought of that.” And at the rate you’re going with that seventh tape you’ll be wearing it out all too soon, you old fool. “What would I do without you, Willow?”

“Oh, you’d probably still be writing on a slate with a chalk,” she said cheerfully, getting up to take the tea tray through to the kitchen. 

Giles laughed, feeling too full of affection for her to bother making an acidic comment in response. He leafed through the papers in front of him, chewing on the end of his pen, while she clattered about with the cups and plates. 

“Leave them, I’ll do them later,” he called.

Willow came back into the lounge and sat at the table opposite him. He looked up to find her staring at him with bright eyes.

“Giles, could we – would you mind if I listened to one of the tapes with you?” 

“No, of course not.” 

Of all of them, Willow had shown the most sensitivity towards his melancholy over the elf’s departure. Nobody had asked about his relationship with Legolas, and generally they seemed to want to gloss over it, change the subject and cheer him up with spurious distractions. Willow was the exception. He felt sure that she had guessed or sensed the truth, and she actively sought to talk to him about the elf whenever possible. If this crazy undertaking got off the ground, she’d be fully involved. Yes, they could listen to the tapes together; and if he couldn’t hold the sadness in, she’d understand.

“Which one shall we start with?” he asked.

“Umm, the first one, I guess. His childhood.”

“That makes sense.” He went over to the stereo to set up the tape, saying over his shoulder, “We might as well sit in the comfy chairs.”

Once they were settled he pressed the relevant button and sat back, feeling the usual note of sorrowful excitement in his belly. He glanced at Willow, sitting forward on her seat with head in hands. She smiled at him sympathetically before he shut his eyes.

There was a moment of hissing and crackling before the rich, lyrical tones of Legolas’s voice filled the space. Giles breathed deeply, picturing the elf sitting across the room and spinning his wonderful stories, those blue eyes full of affection and trust. The first few sentences of the recording washed over him as he held the image in his mind, nurtured it and focussed in on the details. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t really concentrating on the words. After all, he was not merely listening to the tape; he was remembering, for both of them.


End file.
